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The baker washed a round cushion’s pillowcase and hung it to dry. In the lamplight, its circle looked like a small planet.
“What lives there?” Comet asked.
Maya imagined a mouse who collected moon pebbles. Comet imagined trees that grew warm mittens.
They took turns adding one idea. Maya made a lake that reflected stars. Comet added little boats with leaf-shaped sails.
Then he added a very loud trumpet tree.
“Our planet is getting ready for bed,” Maya said. “What could the tree do at night?”
Comet thought. “Hum instead.”
The gardener listened from her chair. She imagined a cozy house with enough cushions for every visitor.
When the pillowcase was dry, the baker put it back on the cushion. Maya leaned against it with her book.
Their planet did not need a rocket. It was still there in the story they had made together, with mitten trees, starry water, and a trumpet tree humming everyone to sleep.
