"Just one more, please." Lumi tugs on her grandmother's sleeve, the fabric slipping on the colorful rug. The candle crackles on the nightstand, and the flame flickers.
The white pillow dips in the middle, the fabric crumpled under the last yawn. The candle crackles again. The amber light trembles on the wall.
"The rain was tapping on the ark—drop, drop, drop." Grandmother's voice is low, almost a thread. Lumi is nearly asleep, her head heavy on her shoulder.
THUNDER. The room bursts with blue light. Lumi's eyes snap open—the rain is beating against the window. Beat. Beat. Just like in the story.
The drops slide down the window glass. Plop. Plop. Plop. The same rhythm as the story. Drop, drop, drop, tapping gently in the dark.
"Baa!" Lumi gets up on the rug, twisting her neck to look in every corner. She points with her finger stretched out. "I found it! The sheep is over there!"—the little bear on the floor.
She hugs the bear with both hands, rocking it back and forth. "It doesn't bite!" The little bear-sheep is squeezed tight, its button eyes shining.
Lumi settles back into her grandmother's lap, quiet, not moving a finger. The candle's flame trembles, and her enormous eyes catch the light—two amber dots.
"And tomorrow... what?" Her voice is so low it almost disappears. Her lips barely move. The candle lights only the tip of her nose.
Grandmother pulls the blanket up to Lumi's chin and pinches out the candle with two fingers. In the dark, two little hands find each other. Outside, the rain has turned into a whisper.
