On rainy evenings, Nilo made paper boats beneath the striped awning. She folded each crease slowly, as if the paper could remember her hands.

Tonight's boat was deep blue. On its side, Nilo painted one small golden star, bright enough to shine without saying a word.

Above a puddle, the painted star appeared again in the water. For one quiet second, Nilo thought the reflection winked back.

She placed the boat in the gutter river. Rainwater caught its bow and carried it down the shining street faster than she expected.

The boat sailed past the bakery window, where warm light turned wet stones amber. Nilo followed, keeping the blue sail in sight.

It slipped beneath the stone footbridge. Below the railing, its gold star moved like a tiny lantern in the rain.

Then the current quickened. Nilo ran after it, red boots splashing and clear umbrella bobbing above her navy hat.

She crossed broad puddles on raised cobbles, choosing each step before taking it. The boat hurried, but Nilo did not panic.

At a narrow alley, the gutter bent toward an iron drain. The blue boat spun once, almost touching the grate.

Nilo reached with her umbrella handle. One careful pull brought the boat back, soaked at the corners but safe in her hands.

That should have ended the adventure. Instead, the painted star glowed from inside the paper, and a bell-like note came from the culvert.

Across the shallow water, little points of gold made a path into the brick tunnel, although no sky waited beneath the street.

Nilo switched on her flashlight. The distant note sounded lonely, so she decided to look just a little farther.

She left her umbrella beside the entrance where she could find it again, then checked the ledge, the water, and the way home.

Deeper inside, warm lights gathered around the boat like moths made of starlight. They showed Nilo which stones were safe.

Under the next arch, the boat brightened. Nilo held it close and listened to the tunnel breathe with the rain.

When she looked up, its reflection had climbed the ceiling. Tiny lights formed a secret constellation over the old bricks.

The path ended at a round chamber tangled with roots. A still pool reflected one small circle of night above.

Between two roots rested a real star, no larger than Nilo's hand. Its warm light was faint and tired.

Nilo wrapped the star in her navy scarf. She waited beside the boat until its glow steadied, giving it all the time it needed.

The golden lights gathered once more and pointed home. Nilo lifted the boat and began the careful walk back.

At the stone steps, dawn waited above. Nilo climbed slowly, carrying the paper boat and the wrapped star close.

The bakery lamps still glowed when she returned. Steam clouded the window, and fresh morning bread rested in warm rows inside.

The rain had stopped. Puddles held peach-colored clouds, and the gutters that had roared all night now whispered around the cobbles.

Nilo followed the water to the canal. Beyond the rooftops, the horizon opened into gold, wide enough for a star.

She sat on the quay with her boots above the water. The star needed the sky, but the sky seemed very far away.

So Nilo repaired every softened fold. From a dry scrap in her pocket, she made a little cradle for the star.

The star settled into its paper seat. A ribbon of gold stretched across the canal toward the brightening clouds.

Nilo lowered the boat and let go. It drifted beyond her fingertips while the morning wind lifted the star toward home.

By sunrise, the blue boat shone on the canal and the lost star was home. Nilo waved once. Some brave journeys begin by following.