Once upon a beam of sleepy starlight, a compass spoke its secret. Not of north or code, but of a lost child hiding inside forever plastic.
"I wish I could point you to your dreams," murmured the compass, "but I am stuck circling a dance without destination. North is lonely, south feels left behind. East and west? Oh, they’re just the same as we are…" It whispered its whispered tales.
An old lamp, flickering, spilled its light before the dawn.
"She never turns me off, never unwinds my cord," grumbled the dusty switch, "But she forgets my glow. My warmth is lost in the void, yearning for her cool touch to press pause."
Stars twinkled the secrets we all share — of lost cushions and broken clocks — scattered across the silent void, waiting for children's fingers to caress their cries. Discover more celestial stories in the sky buttons.