Setting: A cozy backyard at night, two friends, Mia and Jordan, sit on lawn chairs, looking up at the clear starry sky. A small bonfire crackles beside them.
Mia: (grinning) There it is! A shooting star! Quick, Jordan, make a wish!
Jordan: (chuckling) Nah, I’m good. I don’t think a ball of burning gas light-years away is taking requests tonight.
Mia: (mock gasp) Blasphemy! You have to wish. It’s tradition. It works if you believe.
Jordan: (teasing) Ah yes, the ancient cosmic postal service. “Dear Sirius B, please send me a promotion. Regards, Earthling #5,332,789.”
Mia: (laughing) Okay, fine, mock me all you want. But listen — last summer, I wished on a star that I’d find a better apartment, and three weeks later, I did! Right near that coffee shop I love!
Jordan: (raising an eyebrow) And you don’t think maybe the 18 emails you sent to realtors and all the Zillow stalking had something to do with it?
Mia: (waving it off) Details, details. I felt like the universe gave me a little nudge.
Jordan: (grinning) Or maybe your hard work did? I mean, if wishes were really star-powered, shouldn’t they work every time? Like, where’s my wish from fifth grade for a pet dragon?
Mia: (laughs) Maybe dragons are back-ordered. Supply chain issues even in the cosmos.
Jordan: (laughing) See, even you know it’s a little… unlikely. Look, Mia, it’s totally cool to hope for things. Hope is awesome. But shooting stars are just meteoroids burning up in Earth’s atmosphere. They don’t have magic to grant wishes. It’s just physics — friction, heat, light.
Mia: (playfully sticking out tongue) You’re such a killjoy, Jordan. Next you’ll tell me Santa’s just my mom with a bathrobe and a bad fake beard.
Jordan: (laughing) I mean… do you really want me to answer that?
Mia: (mock serious) No, I like my illusions, thank you very much.
Jordan: (leaning back) I get it, though. There’s something nice about believing the universe is listening to you, right? Makes things feel less… random.
Mia: (nodding) Exactly! It’s comforting. Life’s messy. If I can throw a wish into the void and believe it matters, it helps me stay positive.
Jordan: (smiling warmly) And that’s fair. Honestly, positivity does help. Just maybe not because Betelgeuse personally intervened in your apartment hunt.
Mia: (laughing) Maybe not. But still… when I see a shooting star, I’m gonna wish. And if I get what I wished for, I’ll say, “Thank you, Universe!” And if I don’t… well, there’s always the next one.
Jordan: (shrugging) Deal. You wish. I’ll work on my spreadsheets and logical models of success. And when one of us ends up rich and famous, we’ll compare notes.
Mia: (smirking) Fine. But when I’m famous, I’m thanking the stars. You’re gonna have to thank your Excel formulas. Good luck making that speech emotional.
Jordan: (laughing) “I’d like to thank cell C34 for always believing in me…” Yeah, sounds touching.
[They both burst into laughter, the fire crackling beside them, the stars twinkling overhead — and somewhere, another shooting star streaks across the sky.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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