There was a station at the very edge of the evening. You could find it just after the sky turned blue, and just before the first star appeared.
Its platform was made of smooth cloud. Its clock had no numbers. Instead, the hands pointed to little pictures: supper, a bath, a book, and a bed.
Nora arrived while the clock was pointing to the book.
“Am I late?” she asked.
The conductor, a rabbit with silver buttons on his coat, checked his pocket watch.
“Exactly on time,” he said. “We leave when everyone is comfortable.”
Nora chose a window seat. The cushion was warm. A folded blanket waited beside her.
Across the aisle, a bear cub was arranging his scarf. An elderly mouse was closing a very small book.
The conductor walked through the carriage.
“Tickets, please.”
Nora looked in her pockets. She had a smooth pebble, a piece of string, and no ticket at all.
“Will this do?” she asked, holding up the pebble.
The rabbit turned it over in his paw.
“An excellent ticket,” he said. “A little something from today.”
The bear cub showed a drawing. The mouse showed a dried flower. The conductor admired each one and handed it back.
Then the train began to move.
It did not rush. It went clickety-clack, clickety-clack, and Nora settled back against the cushion.
Outside the window, the first star was lighting its lamp.
They passed a lake that held the whole sky on its surface. They crossed a bridge where the clouds looked like hills of whipped cream. They traveled through a field of tiny lights.
“Are those fireflies?” Nora asked.
“Perhaps,” said the rabbit. “Let’s watch. We might see one blink.”
Nora leaned closer to the window. One tiny light blinked, then another.
The bear cub pulled his scarf beneath his chin. The mouse’s whiskers twitched. Nora tucked her pebble safely into her pocket and pulled the blanket over her knees.
“What happens when we reach Sleepyville?” she asked.
“We go home,” said the conductor.
“But I thought we were going somewhere new.”
“Sometimes,” the rabbit said, “the lovely part is the way you get there.”
Nora watched the lights go by. She remembered the puddle she had jumped that morning, and how her father had laughed when she found the pebble beside it.
She had done quite a lot today.
Now she could just sit.
Clickety-clack. Clickety-clack.
When Nora next opened her eyes, she was in her own bed. The blanket was warm around her knees. Her pebble lay on the bedside table, beside her book.
Through the window, one star glimmered.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Somewhere at the edge of the evening, a little train carried on along its quiet tracks.
