When I landed on the Moon, it was silent. Not just quiet – but the kind of silence where you could almost hear the universe breathing.
I stepped out of my capsule. The Moon felt empty, yet alive – as if it were waiting for something.
And there he was: a small boy sitting on a rock. No helmet, no oxygen, just a tousled smile.
“Are you an astronaut?” I asked.
He nodded. “But I’m not here to explore. I’m searching.”
“For what?”
He pointed to the Earth, hanging above us like a glowing marble. “For a rose.”
“A rose? On the Moon?” I frowned.
“No,” he said gently. “My rose is on Earth. I once left her behind. Now I want to learn how to protect her.”
I sat beside him. His voice sounded as if it came from the stars themselves.
“People travel far,” he said. “But they often forget what truly matters.”
“And what matters?” I asked.
He looked at me. “The things we love. Even if it’s just one single rose.”
Above us, silent shooting stars crossed the sky. No sound, only thoughts.
“Will you go back?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “My rose is waiting.”
Then he stood up, brushed off his knees – though there was no dust – and disappeared behind a crater.
I sat there a long time, thinking of him. Maybe he was a prince. Maybe just a little astronaut. But surely someone who knew that love sometimes travels across the whole galaxy just to find its way home.