The Starlight Goodbye

The Starlight Goodbye


         The little girl sat cross-legged by the window, her fingers absently tracing patterns on the frosted glass. The winter evening stretched like a silver veil across the sky, and the first stars began to wink faintly, their light delicate and hesitant. Her breath fogged the pane, and she drew a small heart in the condensation before erasing it with her sleeve.

         Splash had loved sitting here. His silken fur, as white as freshly fallen snow, had glowed in the moonlight as if it had absorbed a piece of the sky itself. His mismatched eyes—one the hue of a summer sky, the other as golden as autumn leaves—had always seemed to see more than the world in front of him. To Bella, Splash had been more than a cat; he had been her confidant, her shadow, her piece of magic in an ordinary life.

Now, the window seat felt achingly empty.

         Bella closed her eyes, trying to summon the warmth of his purring. It had been like the soft rumble of distant thunder on a summer afternoon—calming, familiar. She could almost feel the weight of him curled against her chest, a little furnace chasing away the cold. But when she opened her eyes, the room was silent, hollow.

         The day Splash had gone still played in her mind like a sad melody. He had been so peaceful, lying in his favorite sunbeam, as if the light itself had cradled him in his final moments. It had felt as though the world held its breath, and then he was gone, leaving behind a silence so profound it felt like the earth had shifted beneath her feet.

She leaned her head against the glass and stared out at the stars.

“Where are you, Splash?” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Do you miss me too?”

         The wind outside seemed to sigh in response, carrying with it the scent of pine and the faint, sharp tang of snow. And then, like a gift from the heavens, a single shooting star streaked across the sky, its light quick and fleeting and her heart leapt. Splash had loved chasing things—the flicker of a laser pointer, the rustle of leaves, even the shadows of clouds on the ground. The sight of the star felt like a message, a reminder of the way he had brought wonder into her life.

         She reached for the small, worn collar she kept on her nightstand. The tag jingled softly, its sound like a distant bell calling her back to him. She clutched it tightly, the cool metal pressing into her palm.

“Goodnight, Splash,” she whispered, her voice trembling but steady. “I’ll see you in the stars.”

         As she spoke, a warmth bloomed in her chest, like the first rays of dawn breaking through the night. It was as though Splash’s memory had curled up inside her, purring softly, a part of her forever. Bella slid off the window seat and climbed into bed, the collar still clasped in her hand. Outside, the stars shone brighter, and if you listened closely, you might have heard the faint echo of a purr carried on the winter wind.