The sun receded behind the mountains, the sky going from orange, pink, purple then night. Stars slowly emerged, pulsing brighter and brighter with the oncoming dark.
It reminded the child of an earlier fountain, how fresh coins sparkled through the water. “Maybe that’s what stars are, wishes, and the sky a fountain.”
Sitting alone in the dark, the child began to feel cold and lonely.
Quietly staring at the sky, the child soon noticed the crickets chirping and the wind rustling the palm leaves. Their sounds hushed, and alien at first, soon grew comforting.
The sand, cool on the surface, was warmer beneath. The child burrowed in and pulled out a warm handful; the sand elegantly streaming between the child’s relaxed fingers.
Adjusted to dark by now, the child realized the moon provided ample light. Night gave up it’s secrets; the child could see far. The moon’s soft glow, like a night light’s, gave comfort in the suns absence. The child, emboldened, stayed. A star fell, and a wish was made.