The sunset made a honey-coloured square on Lumi’s table. On the table lay a blue paper boat. One side stood up neatly. The other still looked like a flat little wing.

“Just one more fold,” said Lumi. He pressed a crease with his paw, but the corner flopped open again. His ears were growing sleepy. His idea was not sleepy at all.

A little grey mouse arrived with a lavender strip of paper. “For our boat’s flag,” she said. “We could sail it across the blue cloth tomorrow.”

Lumi pictured a river that went past the cushions and around the chair. “But if I stop now, I might forget how I wanted it to be.” The mouse sat beside him. She did not hurry his paws.

They stepped to the garden door. The last warm patch of sky rested above the leaves. A breeze lifted a dry leaf and set it gently on the step.

The mouse listened to the grass. Lumi listened too. For a little while, neither of them tried to make anything. “My idea is still here,” Lumi whispered. The mouse smiled. “Even during a pause.”

Beside the door stood a small wooden box. Lumi lifted the lid. There was room inside for the boat, the strip of paper and perhaps one good thought.

“Is it a box for putting things away?” he asked. “It can be,” said the mouse. “Or a box for coming back.” Lumi liked the second answer. They carried it to the table together.

Lumi laid the unfinished boat in the box. The mouse tucked the lavender strip beside it. Then Lumi added the dry leaf from the step. Its pointed end reminded him which corner needed the next fold.

“First this corner. Then the flag,” he said softly. He did not need to keep the whole river in his head. The little box could hold a beginning.

The mouse touched the smooth wooden lid. “This box will not fold the boat for us,” she said. Lumi gave a small laugh. “And it will not sail across the cushions.”

“No. It will just keep our things together.” Lumi looked at his paws. They had worked carefully all afternoon. Now they could stop working while the idea stayed safe. He closed the lid gently.

“Goodnight, little boat,” said Lumi. “We can see what you need tomorrow.” The mouse wished him goodnight and followed the short garden path home.

Lumi hung his green scarf on its peg. He put the box beside his low bed and slipped beneath a soft leaf-green blanket. The room was quiet. Nothing on the table needed an answer tonight.

A pale moon shone through the round window. Lumi thought of the blue cloth river, then let the picture grow small and soft. Perhaps the boat would have a flag. Perhaps they would think of a different game.

There was room for both. The box waited beside the bed, holding paper, a leaf and an unfinished idea. Lumi’s eyes closed. Tomorrow had a place. Tonight did too.