Meteor Shower

I GROAN AS I trudge my arrow back inside. I haven't practised that much in months.

It was a very sudden adrenaline boost. Maybe it was because I was getting into the school of my dreams, or that I was happy.

I don't bother going to the basement to put my equipment away, that'd be more steps to climb. Instead, I drag it upstairs, praying I'll keep my consciousness until I get to my room. 

I somehow do, and I thank the lord for that. I throw my bow and quiver on the floor recklessly, immediately regretting it and hoping I didn't break anything. 

My back aches, my arms are sore, and my legs feel numb. If I get up now, there'll be no return for me. But I have to get up. If I want to rest, I have to shower first.

With a groan, I get back up on my wobbly feet. I remove my clothing, starting with my cardigan, and then my blouse. I slide off my sweatpants and doff my socks.

After completely removing everything and being left in my undergarments, I exit my room and head towards my bathroom, located inside my room.

I remove my undergarments and head inside the shower. Turning on the faucet, I sigh as I feel the boiling water run down my back. I find it very pleasurable to be boiled alive. 

After taking a bottle of mango-scenting soap from the shower niche, I squirt a good amount onto my hand, then lather, making it foam.

I lather it onto my loofa, then begin to scrub my body. Two weeks ago I learned that you only scrub 16% of your body when you bathe, so I've been showering for longer now. After a good nine to ten minutes, I turn off the tap—burning my hand slightly in the process.

"Hpmh," I whimper in response. "That hurts…"

I pull my towel off a nearby rack, its striped pattern covering my face. After a good rub, I bring it down to wrap it underneath my shoulders, letting it hang from my armpits. I vamoose my bathroom with a tug to ensure it's secure.

I pick up my phone from on top of my desk, quickly checking CelestialWatch for any updates.

I use CelestialWatch for anything astronomical. From the newest stars to the news on the international space station. Even occasionally, meteor showers.

Which were happening right now.

I remove my towel and throw on a sweatshirt with sweatpants, not bothering to apply lotion or put on my undergarments. With all this light pollution, it's been ages since the last meteor shower. I miss laying down on my back, letting the grass tickle my skin, and watching the meteors fly by. Sometimes I'd wish upon them, but usually, I'd just bask in their beauty.

I can't miss it.

I opened a few drawers in my spare dressers in succession, before coming across what I was searching for. My astronomical tracker.

I blow off the dust that's accumulated, then storm out of my room. I practically jumped down the stairs too. Sliding the glass screen door open, I hurry into the backyard, looking up at the sky in a haze.

It's still on. And it's just as beautiful.

I don't take my eyes off the sky as I sit on the wet grass. No, lying down today, I just finished showering.

"That's stunning," I say to no one in particular. Or maybe I'm talking to myself. The sky manages to amaze me every time, no matter how much I look at it.

"It truly is," I hear a voice say behind me. I quickly whip my head around startled, but nothing's there.

"It must be the wind," I awkwardly chuckle as I try to convince myself. But I can't, as I randomly shudder, feeling like someone is watching me. I don't want this night to be tainted. Who knows when I'll be able to see another meteor shower?

"Wow," the random voice says. "Vous êtes vraiment paranoïaque, n'est-ce pas? C'est adorable."

What did it say this time? I couldn't tell you. I don't know French. But when it says, "adorable", I lose it. At this point, I feel like someone's playing an elaborate joke.

"I'm not adorable!" I scream, my cheeks burning red. 

That seems to do it for the voice, but not all my problems have been solved. My mom comes barging into the backyard, wearing her nightgown and bonnet. 

"Jeong-min? What happened?" She pants, out of breath.

I try to explain the voice and the joke that is being played on me, but with every word I say, my mom's face scrunches up more and more. I'm surprised she hasn't let out any sort of juice with how hard she's squeezing it.

"See? This is why I want to get you into therapy. You're starting to become paranoid," she says.

I sneer. "Everything's alright with me mom." It's quite ironic how you're telling me about this, yet have a massive drinking problem, I want to say. But I keep my mouth shut.

Mother rolls her eyes and yawns, turning around to head into the house. I turn back towards the sky, but the meteors have stopped. 

Now I'm pissed. Whoever that was, I swear, I will forever despise until I die.

I open my astronomical tracker and put in the information I can recall—which is not a lot.

I close the book with a sigh and shuffle back inside.