Buzz. Buzz. The alarm at 7:00. Journey tiptoes to the mirror by the window. She stops dead. A tiny gold star winks back at her from the glass.
Her breath catches. She reaches out slowly. Her finger meets the cool glass. The star sparkles once — then settles, watching her.
The next morning, she brings something new: a blue button. She sets it on the windowsill. The gold star shifts — a soft blue gleam. Next, a feathery sprig. The star turns green. Then a pinecone — and it glows warm brown.
Sunlight gilds her curls. It paints little constellations across her nose. She smiles at her reflection — her own private star.
One morning — nothing. The star is gone. Journey paces. She checks the sill. She looks under the curtains. Nothing.
Her shoulders slump. She stares at her reflection. It looks unfamiliar. Small. 'What am I supposed to do?' she whispers. The mirror stays silent.
She turns away. Then — a smudge on the glass. She rubs it with her thumb. The mirror clears. A glowing version of herself stares back — wearing the star.
The glowing Journey speaks. 'You're already there.' Journey gasps. Her hands fly to her mouth. She looks down — her shirt bears no star. But in the mirror, it shines bright.
The next morning, the alarm buzzes at 7:00. Journey walks to the mirror without hesitation. She meets her own eyes and says aloud, 'Good morning, me.'
The star winks. She skips to breakfast, humming. Toast drifts up from downstairs. Her reflection follows her — quiet, proud.
Downstairs, the kitchen smells like butter and warmth. Journey hums all the way. The star stays — right where it belongs.
Buzz. Buzz. 7:00. But this time, Journey isn't waiting for the star to find her. She already knows where it lives.
