hi mirella!!! here you go. i think Edwin is 8 years old in this bit
I suppose it's only us now, then. Hello."
The fireflies blinked in response. Blink, blink, blink.
"How is it in the jar? Not too stuffy, I hope. I know you're used to the big night sky."
"Did…" Edwin swallowed. "Did Musca send you? Are you fallen stars?"
At the mention of Musca's name, the fireflies glowed brighter—or at least Edwin thought they did. It was difficult to tell. He brought the jar to his face, watching closely.
"Because if you're fallen stars, you have to grant my wish. That's the rules."
The flies gave no response. Edwin rested his forehead against the glass. "I'd like to wish for a friend, please. One that likes my books and listens to my ideas. I don't care how I find them, or when, but I want one. All right?"
If the fireflies understood, they didn't say. All they did said was blink, blink, blink. Edwin yawned, ears popping.
"I suppose its bedtime, then," he said, pulling the blanket off his head. The fireflies' glow stretched outward, casting shadows across the walls. "But don't forget, petites étoiles. You owe me a friend."