Sara arrived to watch meteors after a night shift, her hair still marked by its elastic band. She worked at a hotel reception desk and had only two free hours before sleeping. The group gathered on a hill above town. The only man not holding his phone toward the sky sat on an upturned crate eating a peach. He offered her another, warning that it was probably too ripe and that he had no paper napkins.
His name was Adis, and he had just finished a restaurant shift. He knew four constellations and named the others after shapes on the menu. For the first time that week, Sara laughed without professional obligation. They saw two meteors, one clearly and the other perhaps. As the sun began lightening the edge of the sky, Adis said people could come there even when nothing special was expected. Sara thought she would like to try that.
They began meeting between his restaurant closing and her departure for work. Sometimes that meant forty minutes on a bench with bakery food. Sometimes one fell asleep while the other was still talking. They did not make that proof of insufficient interest. Sara would soon move to another city for training for a job she had long wanted. She told him at their third meeting, before they kissed and before silence could become easier.
Adis was quieter for several days. He did not want a long distance relationship, having already ended one exhausted by traveling and waiting. Sara said she would not stay because of him. The sentence hurt her although it was true. They sat on steps outside a closed stadium and agreed not to promise things they did not want. They could have stopped immediately, but both wanted more time together. They did not call it meaningless simply because they knew it would end.
On the last morning before her departure they returned to the hill. Adis brought firmer peaches and napkins. Sara showed him a constellation she had learned in the meantime, and he kept giving it the wrong name until she bumped his shoulder. They parted outside her entrance, sad and sleepy. A month later she sent him a photograph of the sky over the new city. He replied that he missed her, without asking her to return. Sara studied that sentence for a long time, grateful that one lovely thing had not had to become an obstacle to another.