A Story for Bedtime

I walked back into the living room and found Molly waiting upright against our buttercup headboard. After a full day out in the lane and the greenhouse, she looked eager for some news. I climbed up into our cedar cigar box, tucked our blue flannel blanket securely over her knees, and settled in beside her. From the fold of my sash, I pulled out a tiny dry beech twig with a curled brown leaf still attached, holding it up like a miniature stage prop. I told her all about the greenhouse potting bench, the glossy conker hidden safely by the park bench, and how fair everything turned out. She listened without a squeak, completely cozy and settled.