Kawabe was, if nothing else, a man who loved to show off. Buy a new watch, and he’d take a lap around the neighborhood wearing it. When his grandchild was born, he tucked photos into the community circular and sent it around to every house on the block. That was just the kind of man he was.
The town itself was brown, more or less everywhere you looked. The sky, the dirt, the rooftops — all some tired shade of brown. But every evening, one single star lit up the western sky, and it was ridiculously beautiful. Blue-white, glowing, the kind of light that made the back of your eyes ache if you stared too long. The whole town called it simply “that star,” and sitting on the porch to watch it had been a quiet nightly ritual for as long as anyone could remember.
“They say it’s the prettiest star in the universe,” Mrs. Hama from next door liked to say. She was a kindhearted woman. “And get this — it’s also the best address in the universe. You can only live there if you win the lottery.”
Kawabe won that lottery.
After that, there was no living with him. He carried the winning notice around in a cardboard tube and unrolled it for anyone who’d stand still long enough. “Look at that. That star right there. That’s where I’m going to live. So long, brown planet.” On moving day, half the town turned out to see him off — half out of envy, half out of relief.
Once he’d settled in, Kawabe started calling constantly. He’d grin at the camera like a man who’d won something bigger than a lottery.
“You wouldn’t believe it over here. Bright as noon, all the time. There’s no such thing as night. Just white, all day and all night.”
“Huh,” Mrs. Hama said, teacup still in hand. “So what’s it like outside? It’s supposed to be the prettiest star around. Must be nice for a walk.”
“Outside?” Kawabe snorted. “Step outside for one second and you’re burnt to a crisp. Too bright, too hot. There aren’t even any windows. Don’t need them — nobody out here does. Everyone who lives here knows the deal.”
“I see,” was all Mrs. Hama could say.
A few days later, another call came in. This time Kawabe’s voice was smaller than usual.
“Mrs. Hama. I need to ask you something.”
“My, you sound awfully serious.”
”…Is it out tonight? That star.”
Mrs. Hama stepped onto the porch. There it was, right where it always was, glowing blue-white and gorgeous in the western sky.
“It’s out. Pretty as ever tonight. Of all the stars I can see from here, yours is still the prettiest one, you know.”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
“I haven’t seen it once,” Kawabe finally said. “Not since I moved. No windows, remember. Can’t see outside at all. I live on that thing and I don’t even know what color it glows.”
”…I suppose you wouldn’t.”
“Could you do me a favor? Just point your phone at it for a second. Just for a minute.”
Mrs. Hama sighed and lifted her phone toward the western sky. On the small screen, a tiny blue-white point blurred into focus — the single most beautiful star in the universe.
Inside that star, in a room without a single window, Kawabe looked at his own home for the first time in his life, through the glow on a stranger’s phone screen. He let out a long, slow breath.
”…Well, look at that. Not bad at all. That’s my place.”