uSpace

**The Dream That Could Never Fly** When he was little, Leo drew a picture with colored pencils and crayons. In the drawing, a boy wearing a tall colorful top hat and a bright vest stood with arms wide open, flying through space. The Moon smiled at him, and Earth floated like a blue ball he could hold in his hands. Leo named the drawing *Little Space King*. His mother often asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Leo always answered with confidence: “I’m going to fly to space. I’m going to touch the stars.” Every night, Leo lay on the old rooftop, staring at the hazy city sky, whispering to the distant stars. He dreamed of the roar of rocket engines, the perfect silence of space, and looking down at Earth from above, saying, “Mom, I’m here.” But when Leo was twelve, the doctor delivered the devastating words: **congenital heart disease**. “You can’t fly,” the doctor said gently. “You shouldn’t even run too much.” From that day on, the colorful top hat was tucked away in the closet. The drawing *Little Space King* still hung on the wall, but every time his mother looked at it, she cried quietly. Leo grew up, studied, laughed with friends, but at night he would hug his pillow and stare at the ceiling as if it were the universe. He became an art teacher for children. Every time a kid drew a rocket or spaceship, Leo would smile, praise them, then quietly turn away to wipe his tears. He never told anyone about his old dream. Thirty years later, lying in a hospital bed, Leo held his elderly mother’s hand. His body was too weak to even sit up. Outside the window, the night sky was unusually clear, stars twinkling as if calling him. Leo whispered, his voice hoarse and trembling: “Mom… I still want to fly.” His mother couldn’t speak. She only nodded, tears falling onto her son’s thin hand. She took out the old drawing and placed it on his chest. *Little Space King* was still there — arms wide open, smiling, still dreaming. That night, Leo left…