It was a cold December evening in Kevelaer. The snow lay fresh on the paths and the lights in the town glowed warmly against the early darkness.
Jonas was allowed to go for a short walk with his father that evening. Just one round, they had said. Once through the quiet streets before heading home. At Kapellenplatz, Jonas suddenly stopped. Between the snow and the footprints was something that didn't really belong there. A small star.
Jonas carefully picked it up.
The star wasn't cold. It felt warm - as if it was saying: Come.
His father smiled.
"Then we'll probably walk a little further," he said quietly.
Together they walked through the snow-covered streets of Kevelaer.
The star accompanied Jonas, sometimes very close, sometimes a little way ahead.
Windows lit up, footsteps crunched in the snow, and above it all lay that special calm that only exists on winter evenings.
When they reached the water tower, Jonas stopped. The star shone brighter - and slowly began to climb upwards. Along the tower, higher and higher, until it had found its place.
Suddenly, the water tower seemed brighter than usual. Almost as if it were guarding the night.
Later, when Jonas was long home and silence had returned outside, he looked out of the window again. The water tower shone calmly into the darkness.
The star had disappeared. But the feeling remained. Sometimes, Jonas thought, Christmas just needs someone to look.