The day began like any other. I woke up in my crib, the warm sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting golden patches on the floor. It was a beautiful day, I could tell, though I didn’t yet have the words to describe it. The air felt fresh, and everything was bright and full of possibility. My parents had come to check on me, of course. They always did. First, my mother with her soft voice and gentle touch, and then my father, with his big booming laugh and bushy beard that never failed to make me giggle. They told me good morning in the way they always did, filling me with that warm feeling I was coming to understand as love.

But soon enough, they had gone off to do whatever it was grown-ups did, leaving me alone in my little world. And that was fine with me, because I had my stars.

I lay on my back, staring up at the mobile that hung above me. It was my favorite thing, my constant companion. A cluster of soft, fabric stars and planets, all hanging from delicate strings. They twirled and swayed whenever I gave them a push, and I would watch, wide-eyed and filled with awe, as they spun around each other like tiny dancers. They moved with such grace, each one following its own path but always staying in balance, as if some invisible hand was guiding them.

I loved to watch the stars move. They fascinated me in a way I couldn’t explain, even to myself. Something about the way they spun and glided through the air made my heart race with excitement. I didn’t know why, but every time I played with them, I felt… connected. It was as if they were part of me, like we were somehow linked by something I couldn’t quite understand.

And today, I wanted to play with them more than ever.

I reached up with my small hands, my fingers stretching toward the mobile. My body was still weak, but I had grown stronger over the past months. I could grab things now, push them, pull them. I could make the stars move with just the slightest touch. And so I did. I gave them a gentle push, watching as they began to spin in slow, lazy circles.

But I wanted more. I didn’t just want them to spin—I wanted them to dance.

My arms were already growing tired, though. I had been playing all morning, pushing and pulling at the stars until my little muscles ached with exhaustion. I could feel my strength leaving me, my arms trembling as I tried to keep them raised. Eventually, I couldn’t do it anymore. My arms gave out, and I collapsed back onto the soft mattress, panting from the effort.

For a moment, I just lay there, staring up at the stars, feeling a wave of frustration wash over me. I wanted to keep playing, but my body was too weak. My arms were limp at my sides, too tired to move. But I wasn’t ready to give up. I still wanted to play.

As I lay there, something inside me stirred. It was a feeling I had experienced before, though I didn’t fully understand it. It was the same feeling I had when I first realized I could make the stars spin without touching them. A strange warmth deep inside me, like a golden light that pulsed and flowed through my body. I didn’t know what it was or where it came from, but I knew it was important. It made me feel alive, powerful, connected to something much bigger than myself.

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I focused on that feeling now, letting it fill me as I stared up at the mobile. My arms were too tired to push the stars, but maybe… just maybe… I didn’t need to.

I didn’t know how I did it, but somehow, I reached out—not with my hands, but with that warm, glowing energy inside me. It was as if I was stretching out with my mind, not my body. And then, just like that, the stars began to move.

At first, it was just a tiny shift, a small, almost imperceptible twirl of one of the planets. But then, as I focused harder, willing the stars to move, they began to spin faster. I watched in amazement as the mobile came to life, the stars and planets dancing and swirling above me without me ever having to touch them.

They moved beautifully, more beautifully than they ever had before. The stars spun in wide arcs, gliding effortlessly through the air as if they were weightless. The planets followed in perfect harmony, twirling around each other in a graceful ballet. They weren’t just spinning randomly anymore—they were dancing, moving together in a way that seemed almost alive.

It was mesmerizing. I watched, wide-eyed and full of wonder, as the stars danced above me, their soft fabric glowing in the golden sunlight. They moved in patterns that I didn’t understand but felt deep in my soul. They circled each other, then spiraled outward, only to come back together in a beautiful, synchronized motion. It was like watching the night sky come to life.

The more I focused, the more complex their dance became. The stars moved faster, their paths intertwining like ribbons in the wind. They spun and twirled, dipped and soared, as if they were following some invisible rhythm that only they could hear. And I could feel it too—that rhythm, that connection. It was as if I was part of their dance, guiding them with that strange power inside me.

The golden light inside me pulsed stronger, flowing through my tiny body like a river of warmth. It wasn’t just in my mind anymore—I could feel it in every part of me, in my fingers, in my toes, in the very air around me. It was the same golden light I had seen in the void, the light that had given me hope when everything else was dark. And now, here it was again, filling me with joy as I made the stars dance.

I laughed, the sound bubbling up from deep within me. It was a pure, happy laugh, full of the simple joy of being alive. The stars danced faster, spinning and twirling like they were trying to keep up with my laughter. And the more they danced, the happier I felt. It was as if we were feeding off each other’s energy, the stars and I, connected by that golden light.

I wasn’t just playing with the stars anymore. I was creating something, something beautiful. Their dance wasn’t random—it was a reflection of the joy I felt inside, a physical manifestation of the happiness and wonder that filled my heart. And as I watched them spin, I realized something important.

This wasn’t just a game. This was something more. The golden light inside me, the power that made the stars dance—it wasn’t just for play. It was part of who I was. It was part of me.

I didn’t know how I knew this, but I did. The light, the force that flowed through me, wasn’t something outside of me. It wasn’t just a tool or a trick. It was an extension of myself, something that had always been there, waiting to be discovered.

As I lay there, watching the stars dance, I felt a deep sense of peace settle over me. I didn’t understand everything yet—I didn’t know what this force was or why I had it—but I knew it was important. I knew it was part of my journey, part of who I was meant to become.

And in that moment, I didn’t need to understand it fully. It was enough to know that I had this power, this connection to the world around me. It was enough to know that I could make the stars dance.

Eventually, the golden light inside me began to fade, not in a bad way, but in the way a candle flickers when it’s time to rest. My eyelids grew heavy, and I felt the familiar pull of sleep. The stars were still spinning above me, slower now, their dance coming to a gentle end. I watched them with sleepy eyes, my heart full of happiness.

I had done it. I had made the stars dance.

As my eyes fluttered closed, I let out one last giggle, a soft, contented sound that echoed through the quiet room. The stars slowed to a stop, hanging still and peaceful above me. The golden light inside me dimmed, but I knew it wasn’t gone. It was just resting, waiting for the next time I needed it.

And as I drifted off to sleep, I felt that same sense of connection, that same warmth that had been with me since the void. The force was still there, pulsing gently inside me, a part of me now and forever.

I didn’t know what the future held, but for now, I was happy. Happy to be alive, happy to be Alex, and happy to know that I could make the stars dance.

And with that final thought, I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep, the stars twinkling softly above me, like a lullaby just for me.