Anna Marie's POV
It's been a week since my parents kicked me out of my house. I dropped out of high school to peruse a music career that they don't believe I will achieve. For the past week, I've been using the little money that I make singing and playing my guitar on the streets to stay in cheap inns. It's been pretty rough, but I guess It could be worse.
I walk into the inn that I had been saying at for the past few days and go straight to my room. Inside, all I have is a duffle bag with a few outfits and my guitar case, along with a journal of songs I had written. Today I mad 20 pounds and I was really surprised. I normally make 5 tops. I guess they liked the new song I had played today.
I look outside the broken window and stare into the night sky.
"Look, Stephen. A shooting star." I whisper.
Stephen is my older brother, whom died in a car crash on his eighteenth birthday. The authorities said he was killed immediately because his chest went straight into the steering wheel. I miss him dearly. He was the only person who supported me with my music.
"I wish that things could get better." I say quietly and lay onto the pullout bed staring at the ceiling.
After staring for a while, I feel myself slip into unconsciousness.
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Ed's POV
For the past three months I've been staying with my friend Tom, in his flat that is basically the size of a shoe box. I can't really complain because without him I wouldn't have anywhere to stay. He stays in the bed, while I stay on the pullout couch. Everyday I go over to the church and sing and play my guitar for money. I don't have a job, really. I guess that's my job.
I've been staying from place to place, couch to couch for the past year now. I dropped out of high school, and left home. I'm homeless. But I'm happy, because I'm doing what I love. I have a roof to sleep under, but it is not mine. And it is never permanent.
Today, I decided to not go to the church, and take a walk through town to think for a bit. And I saw this girl. She had long dark brown hair and mesmerizing blue eyes. I sat and watched her from afar. She had been singing and playing guitar in the park, collecting change. She had gathered quite the crowd, and earned a good sum. She was beautiful.
But now, I'm on my pullout bed, staring out the small window of the flat. As I looked, I saw a shooting star.
"I wish things were better. Don't get me wrong, I love the life I live, but it only gets better from here, right?" I sighed and turned away from the window.
Things can only get better from here, right?
