Suddenly, a gentle silver light danced on the room’s curtains. The little moon slowly rose from behind the hill. It was round and kind, and it had a smile as wide as its glowing face.

Roya put her hand on the cold window glass. The little moon, from the other side of the glass, shone its light onto Roya’s small fingers. Without saying a word, they greeted each other and asked how the other was.

The little moon gave a little shake and, from its imaginary pockets, sprinkled a handful of silver glitter into the sky. The night sky filled with bright dots that sparkled like tiny lanterns.

Just then, “Pashmak,” a white, fluffy owl, came fluttering in and sat on the edge of the window. Roya waved to him, and Pashmak hooted kindly.

The little moon decided to play. It hid itself behind a soft, pink cloud. Only its shining edges could be seen from behind the cloud. Roya laughed and said, “I found you, little moon!”

A small, playful star slipped from the sky and came down. Roya thought that if she stretched out her hand, maybe she could catch it. The star shone in her hand like a little flashlight.

The night grew calmer. The little moon began to sing a soundless lullaby. It swayed gently in the sky, as if it were a silver cradle in the heart of the night.

Roya’s eyes grew heavy. She gave a big yawn and pulled the blanket up under her chin. The room smelled of sleep and peace. Pashmak, too, tucked his head under his wing.

Roya fell asleep and dreamed of shooting stars. The little moon stayed awake behind the window all night and, with its silver light, kept watch over its little friend. Good night, Roya, good night, little moon.