“I’m busy,” he says, concentrating on the stars. “What are you doing?” I ask with a laugh. There’s a pause before he turns his head to me, a smile on his lips. “Finding the brightest star other than the North Star. That one’s already taken.” “What?” I ask with a laugh, and his head turns back to the night sky. “That one,” he whispers, pointing to the sky. “That’s the one I’m naming after you. My little star gets the brightest star.”
