'' The Last Star ''

The night was cold, and the wind howled through the cracks in the window of the tiny room. Oliver sat on the edge of his bed, knees tucked against his chest, staring out into the dark sky. The city outside bustled, but none of it mattered to him. All he cared about were the stars.

Every night, Oliver would sit there, waiting for the stars to come out. His mother used to tell him stories about them-how each one was a wish, a dream someone had whispered into the universe. But tonight, the sky was heavy with clouds, and no stars were visible.

He wished his mother were there. She had been gone for a while now, taken away by something the grown-ups called "sickness." Oliver didn't really understand it. All he knew was that one day she was there, smiling and singing to him softly as she tucked him into bed, and the next day she was gone, leaving the house so silent, so empty.

His father had changed after that. He no longer sat with Oliver to look at the stars. He no longer read him bedtime stories or kissed his forehead goodnight. Instead, he spent his days working late, his face always tired, and his words clipped. Oliver didn't know how to make him better.

"Mom said the stars are always there, even if you can't see them," Oliver whispered to himself, his voice trembling in the empty room. He repeated her words like a prayer, clinging to the memory of her voice.

He missed her so much it hurt. The kind of hurt that didn't go away, no matter how hard he tried to be brave.

The little boy climbed under his thin blanket, pulling it over his shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that maybe, if he wished hard enough, he'd wake up, and his mom would be there. Maybe she'd sit beside him, stroke his hair, and tell him everything was going to be okay.

But morning always came, and she never did.

Oliver opened his eyes once more, gazing at the window. The clouds had thinned, and for a brief moment, one tiny star appeared in the sky. Just one.