At the edge of a little garden, where the lavender leaned into the evening, there was a gate no taller than a teacup. Every night, when the first star appeared, a small rabbit named Pip opened it for the moonlight. Tonight, Pip brought a blanket. He spread it beneath the apple tree, and watched the silver light settle softly on the grass. Nothing needed to be hurried. Nothing needed to be finished. The flowers had folded their petals. The birds had tucked their heads beneath their wings. Even the wind was resting. Pip took one slow, gentle breath. Above him, the moon smiled its quiet smile. And all around the little garden, the world grew soft, and still, and ready for a lovely dream.