Wish Upon The Shooting Star #Wattys2015

Star

Everyone! I'm so so so so so so so so so so sorry for updating so late! Please forgive me! My explanation is at the end of the chapter so please read first and find out why later! > <

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My last belonging still standing on the stainless white desk is the snow globe I bought on christmas four years ago when I had just been employed by this company. Lifting it up, my thumbs gently brush its smooth glass. Then I shake it vigorously, causing all the glittering snow to fill up the world inside the snow globe, slowly falling down graciously. Inside the snow globe is a Forever Friends' bear hugging a crescent moon, sleeping soundly like a sleeping beauty, undisturbed even by an earthquake. After admiring the snow globe enough, I dig into the medium-sized carton box, carving a special safe and protected space for my precious baby. I lift my eyes up off it, showering the surroundings with nostalgic looks as I will surely miss everything here; from the dust often accumulating in the corner of my desk to the pot of flower by the window neglected by almost everyone but Vera.

"Hey." A pat on my shoulder has me turn around while my eyes soften at her tearing sight. Her hands are grabbing on my upper arm gently but firmly, can't bear to let me, her friend for six years even before joining this company, go. I could only pull my lips up into a smile, at the same time snaking my arms around her, resting my chin on her shoulders. I can't bear to leave as well, but I just have to.

"Must you go, Seren?" She wipes the edges of her eyes with her palm, sobbing faintly while all eyes are on us, perhaps even Mr Roswell's.

"I'm sorry Vera." Since I have chosen to get treatment-chemoteraphy-I should do it discreetly as I don't want others to find me in my weak and pathetic state. I'm ready for hair-loss, but not ready to be seen by the ones I know and love.

Pulling my body away from her, I look around at everyone else who's pretending to be deeply immersed in their mountain of work, but is actually sharpening their hearing to eavesdrop.

Lifting my carton box up, I pull myself together, bidding farewell to everyone, once and for all.

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"This should be the last." Throwing a carton box onto another one in this ocean of boxes, plastic bags and dusts, I stretch my body as cracking sounds from my joints could be heard, probably due to hours of packing and months of never exercising out of busy work life.

Honk! Honk! The honking sound of a truck could be heard from below. As I leap my way towards the windows across the sea of my belongings packed in boxes, I retie my ponytail into a tight bun, probably enough to last me several hours of sweating profusely. Pushing open the old and creaking windows, I find a man in his usual baggy jeans and red-and-black checkered top with a yellow smiley t-shirt leaning against the body of a truck.

"Simon!" Calling out for him, my phone rings at the same time. As I dig into my pockets for my phone and perceive the screen, he lifts his head up to meet my eyes and curls lips into a smile. Written on my screen is Simon Jackson.

"Come up!" Immediately after gesturing him to come up, I tiptoe my way through my messier-than-ever room, which resembles the aftermath of a nuclear explosion, towards the front door; an originally dark-brown doors painted green with his help, though the paint is peeling off due to age. Some repainting will do, but it's no longer necessary.

The door slams open right in front of my nose, causing me to scream on top of my lungs while sending flying punches blindly. When two hands lock my wrists tightly, I slowly take a peek through my eyelids.

"Are you trying to kill your landlord?"

"I'm ready." I say nonchalantly, waving my arm to divert his attention to the boxes stacked messily like tiers of legos.