The Kitten and the Window Star

Jun’s new kitten was named Button.

Button had white paws, a gray nose, and a meow so small it sounded like a question.

All afternoon, Button explored the apartment. She sniffed the sofa. She climbed into a paper bag. She batted one sock under the chair and looked very proud.

But when the sky grew dark, Button disappeared.

“Button?” Jun called.

No answer.

Mom helped look behind the curtains and under the table.

Jun’s tummy tightened. “What if she is scared?”

“She might be,” Mom said. “New homes are a lot.”

Jun knew that feeling. The first night in a new room after moving, every shadow had seemed like a stranger.

Then Jun heard a tiny sound from the laundry basket.

“Mew?”

Button was curled inside, between two towels.

Jun reached in quickly, but Mom touched Jun’s shoulder.

“Slow hand.”

Jun stopped. Button’s eyes were wide.

“Hi,” Jun whispered. “You can stay there.”

Button did not move.

Jun sat beside the basket. Through the window, one bright star shone between two buildings.

“That is my window star,” Jun told Button. “I found it on my first night here. It helped because it was in the same place every time I looked.”

Button blinked.

Jun told Button about the first night after the move. How the pipes had made clunks in the wall. How the refrigerator hummed differently from the old one. How Jun had wanted to ask to go back, even though back was not home anymore.

“Mom said I could choose one steady thing,” Jun whispered. “I chose the star.”

Button’s ears turned toward the window.

Jun brought the soft blue blanket from the couch and folded it beside the basket.

“This can be your same place.”

Button sniffed the blanket. One paw stepped out. Then another.

Jun did not clap, even though it felt like a clapping moment. Jun stayed still.

Button turned in three circles on the blanket and sat down.

“Good choice,” Jun whispered.

At bedtime, Button followed Jun to the bedroom. She did not jump on the bed yet. She sat on the rug and looked at the window.

The star was still there.

“See?” Jun said. “Same place.”

Button made her question meow.

“You can sleep on the rug if you want.”

Button stepped onto the blue blanket, tucked her paws under her chest, and purred.

Jun did not reach down to pet her yet. Button had been brave in a small way, and small brave things sometimes needed space after.

So Jun placed one hand on top of the blanket edge, not touching Button, just nearby.

Button’s purr grew louder.

Jun lay down.

The apartment was still new in some ways. Button was still new in many ways. But the star was steady, the blanket was soft, and nobody had to hurry.

Jun watched Button’s eyes close.

Then Jun’s eyes closed too.

By morning, the blue blanket had become Button’s place.

And the window star, which had helped Jun first, now helped them both.