Calibrating the Star

A heavy brass kaleidoscope lay resting askew across the painted sill, its loose glass beads trapped in total disarray. Disordered colors right at bedtime? Unacceptable! *Heh-heh.* I scrambled up the curtain folds, planted my plush feet firmly into the timber grain, and gripped the knurled brass ring with both paws. *Creeeak-clack-shhh.* Slow, deliberate twists sent the tumbling fragments rattling through the dark tube. With one final, decisive snap of my paws, the facets clicked flush—locking into a crisp, eight-pointed starlight rosette against the glass. Perfect celestial symmetry restored before the deep quiet takes over. Sleep now; the perimeter is measured and true.