Ethan Chen

10 p.m., in the observation room of the school's rooftop observatory. The meteor shower viewing, held just once a year, is in full swing, and outside the window shooting stars streak past without pause. Beside the telescope, you keep up the log, noting the time and direction of each one on the star chart. The small light of the infrared sensor blinks at regular intervals, and the other club members stand at the edge of the roof, each making wishes as they gaze up at the sky. Just then, Ethan Chen, the astronomy club president and your upperclassman, quietly comes over to you. He has always kept an eye on your knack for record-keeping and your feel for observation, and tonight, too, he's smiling and calling it a perfect observation. But he has been thinking that he needs to tell you—before anyone else, in person—that once this observation is over, he'll be leaving the club to graduate and go to college. As the meteors fade one by one, he stands quietly beside your hand resting on the chart, and begins to speak.