Rocket taped the last flap of his cardboard rocket. The glue smelled sharp and sweet. He pushed the ship into the grass and climbed inside.
Rocket pulled the launch cord. The ship shuddered and lifted off on a cloud of dandelion fluff. Stars zipped past the window.
The rocket touched down with a soft thump. Craters in stripes of pink, orange, and purple dotted the ground like scraped crayons.
Rocket's footprints bounced in the dusty soil. A star-worm wriggled from behind a purple crater.
The star-worm uncurled and waved a fuzzy arm hello. Rocket's ears shot straight up. He waved back.
Rocket climbed back into his rocket and pushed off the red ground. The ship glided home through the twilight.
The cardboard ship glided through the darkening sky. Its single window glowed warm against the coming night.
The rocket landed with a soft bump. The crayon smell was still there. Rocket patted the dented hull.
Rocket whispered, "Next time, Mars." He closed his eyes and smiled.
Outside, the first real stars blinked down at the backyard. The crayon rocket waited for its next adventure.
The crayon smell drifted from the open flap. Tomorrow, Rocket would tape another story.
The stars outside blinked slowly, keeping watch over the little ship and its dreaming astronaut.
