Storm[/@ch_2], a boy with brown hair, tan skin, and curious black eyes, sits intensely focused, goggles perched on his head, tools scattered around him.] Storm fidgeted in his chair, glancing at the clock as the house fell silent. He wished more than anything to escape the monotony of school and the ever-watchful eyes of his police officer parents. His mind buzzed with plans bigger than any math problem—plans to build a rocket and leave everything behind.

Storm[/@ch_2] gathers toy parts, wires, and video games, piling them into his makeshift rocket.] Storm carefully glued together bits of plastic, cardboard, and even his favorite action figure wings. He whispered, "If I can just finish this tonight, tomorrow I’ll be on the moon—no more school, no more rules." Each piece fit together with hope, his dreams growing larger with every click and snap. He placed his last toy inside, heart racing as he prepared for his imaginary launch.

Storm[/@ch_2] stands above it, one foot accidentally crushing its side, fragments scattered across the rug.] As Storm climbed in, the rocket gave way beneath him. His heart sank as he realized he was simply too big for his own creation. Frustration bubbled over, and tears welled up in his eyes. He slumped on the floor, shoulders shaking, feeling small and defeated.

Storm[/@ch_2]’s tearful eyes as he looks up in hope.] Storm caught sight of the shooting star and, with a trembling voice, whispered, "I wish I was on the moon." He squeezed his eyes shut, hands clasped tightly together, the wish filling his heart with longing. The room seemed to grow silent and still, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Storm[/@ch_2] stands in his pajamas, earthlight shining down, the silence immense and cold.] Storm opened his eyes and gasped; he was really on the moon. Joy burst inside him—he was over the moon, leaping lightly in the low gravity. But soon the chill seeped into his bones, and the silence felt lonely. The endless gray stretched on, and he realized how much he missed his warm bed, his parents’ hugs, and even the noisy bustle of school.

Storm[/@ch_2] closes his eyes again, folding his hands in prayer. Suddenly, the familiar warmth and clutter of his bedroom return, the lamp casting a golden halo across his desk.] Storm blinked, heart pounding, as he found himself back at his desk. Relief flooded through him, and he rushed from his room, feet thumping down the hallway. He wrapped his arms around his parents, sobbing with joy. "I’m home! I promise I’ll go to school every day and listen to you both. I never want to leave again," he cried, clinging tightly.