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Alone Together

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Nimbin couldn’t sleep.

He was told to wait for morning.

But tomorrow was too far away.

He crept down the stairs.

The Abstractionist stood next to the Toy Maker’s model, packing up.

It still had the same tiny houses and winding roads.

Forests and lakes no bigger than Nimbin’s hand.

But now the puppets were moving on their own.

“They’re just like us.”

Nimbin stepped closer and found himself inside.

Everything turned red.

He could see everybody, but there was nobody there.

He wandered and found an old oak tree.

It hid a door made of light.

He stuck his head through.

A new outside glowed blue.

Everyone was here, but there was nothing to see.

A tap on his shoulder.

Purple swirled until red returned.

“Red is your Kingdom of Meaning.”

“Blue is our Kingdom of Happening.”

Nimbin was quiet.

“Feeling alone isn’t the same as being separate,” he thought.

They left the model.

Nimbin went back to sleep.

Nothing had changed.

The End.

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