Milo lay in bed, eyes wide. The little star outside his window zipped left, zipped right, tapping a tiny silver foot on the glass. Milo sat up and whispered, "You can't sleep, can you?"
Milo climbed onto his chair and pressed his nose to the cool window. "Let me tell you a story," he said, beginning his favorite tale about a sleepy cloud. The star zipped away with a tiny ping, and Milo frowned.
Milo held up three fingers. "One star, two stars, three sleepy stars." The star zipped closer, its light growing brighter, bouncing higher each time. Milo paused, realizing the game was making the star more awake.
Milo lay back down and whispered about a sleepy spaceship. The star's zipping slowed, its light dimming. Then it sneezed — achoo! — and a puff of glittery dust landed on Milo's sill.
Milo giggled, catching a warm speck of starlight on his fingertip. It glowed faintly, then faded.
The star's zipping slowed. Its light dimmed to a soft, steady glow. It hung in the sky, watching over the bedroom, no longer racing but finally still.
Morning light painted stripes of gold across Milo's bed. He ran to the window and saw the star, still glinting soft and steady in the blue sky.
Milo grinned and pressed his palm to the glass. "Good morning, friend."
