true story

on the way home from work, sitting in front of a closed railroad crossing, wondering where the hell the train was, i saw in front of me up in the sky a shooting star, streaking from left to right, up to down. it was long, and bright, and beautiful.

and i thought to myself: self, you're supposed to wish when you see a shooting star.

and the very next things that came to mind, the words that formed in my mind's ear, quickly and without searching, while not grammatically sound, were not lacking in truth or feeling:

i wish that she loves me.