The stars are slowly disappearing. Once, the night sky was full of light, a sparkling reminder of how big and beautiful the universe is. But now, after humanity left Earth and settled on new planets, the stars seem to be fading. There is no more Earth, no more home. There's just distant colonies on other worlds. Life here feels small, and the sky, once filled with wonder, is now dark and empty. I live in one of these weird places, surrounded by the cold silence of space, feeling disconnected from everything and everyone.
I never thought much about the stars, not until I realized they are disappearing. And then, one night, something happened. As I stood outside, staring at the sky, I saw a faint light. The last two stars. They were barely visible, but they were there, shining in the darkness. And then, out of nowhere, a smile appeared. It was a gorgeous shooting star that filled the sky with its light. The two starts looked like two eyes that haven't felt happiness in eternity. The stars' curved tail looked liken a gentle smile. The smile the people passing by would give you even when they're in a rush. The smile your friend gives you after a heated argument. For the first time in what felt like forever, I experienced true freedom.
For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The sky was still, the air cool against my skin, as I watched the stars flicker like old friends meeting after a long time apart. The smile that had filled the sky slowly faded, but its warmth remained. It was as if the universe itself was trying to tell me something that even in a world full of loss and uncertainty, there was a way forward. That smile wasn’t just a light in the dark, it was a promise.
I stood there a for a little longer. Just watching and waiting, hoping the star would appear just once more. I wanted to see feel the peace again. In the silence of the night I wondered how could such a small thing bring me so much joy. And then I understood. It wasn’t a star that brought me peace. It was a reminder that I was still capable of feeling. Of smiling at the universe, even when it felt empty.
The more I thought about the shooting star, the less it felt like a coincidence. It hadn’t burned out or disappeared into the darkness, I just couldn’t see it because of the clouds. It moved too slowly, almost carefully, as if it were aware of where it was going. The flickering felt intentional, as if it was trying to communicate. It appeared in the exact moment I went out to stargaze. I did see shooting stars before, but none of them brought this amount of uncertainty.
After all, it was probably just a coincidence. I hadn’t seen a shooting star in a very long time, and maybe my mind was desperate to find meaning where there was none. I continued living my quiet, boring life. Waking up whenever I felt like it because there was no school and no obligations waiting for me. When the hunger crept in, I walked to the nearest shop and took whatever I want since there is no cashiers to check out. I ate alone, on a park bench that used to be filled with children, dog walkers and old ladies going on their Sunday walks. And when the sun disappeared and the moon rose, I lay on the cold ground and think about the meaning of life when there’s no life around me. The silence felt heavy. I didn’t expect anything to happen anymore. Life here was simple, empty, slow.
But then I noticed something. The two persistent stars I’ve been watching every night since the others vanished now have another companion. This star was smaller and dimmer. It flickered in a strange almost intentional way, It did feel familiar, like I’ve already seen it. But I didn’t think much of it and I just admired it in silence.
Night after night, the light shifted position ever so slightly, too slow to be a comet but it wasn’t bright enough to be a star. I began to track it, measuring its distance against the remaining stars, and the truth slowly settled in my mind. It wasn’t a star at all. It was something closer. Something smaller. It was a planet or a ship.
The idea should have scared me. Another presence in a universe that taught me how to be at my own. Instead, it filled me with excitement I haven’t felt in years. I wasn’t the last one in this universe at all.
One night the light grew bigger. The ground beneath me started vibrating. I thought this was the end of my planet. As I looked up, heart racing, a small vessel descended from the sky, settling into the empty field where children once played. The door opened with a quiet hiss. A tall figure stepped out.
They looked just like me. Human. Real. Wearing old clothes, eyes wide with disbelief, as if they couldn’t quite trust what they were seeing. We stared at each other in silence, separated by only a few steps. And then I saw the same smile that filled me with peace and hope. Gentle but promising and trustful.
They told be their story as we sat beneath the fading stars. How they had lived alone on a drifting space body, a fragment of a failed colony, surviving off old technology and memories. How every night they watched the sky hoping and begging for a sign that they weren’t alone. They saw the same thing I did. The soft smile that made me believe.
After that day, my daily routine changed. I’d have a reason to wake up, someone to eat with, someone to exchange opinions with. The park that was once filled with silence is now echoing with jokes and laughter.The store now had both a cashier and a customer. We weren’t actually paying but it made us feel normal again. Life before The Human was simple, every day was the same. There was no one to agree or disagree with. No one to give a second opinion. Now there is a mind next to mine, a body next to my body.
We lay on the ground every night and stargaze. We are waiting for another human, another creature, another smile. Life is worth living again.
That human saved me, that smile made a difference.