A bedtime story
with a dragon.

On the night the moon was very orange, Iris met a dragon. The dragon was named Mortimer. He was, by dragon standards, on the small side — about the size of a refrigerator. He had landed in the backyard quietly, the way dragons do, and was now eating a tomato out of the garden. Iris, who was four years old, was old enough to know that this was, technically, surprising. But she had been waiting her whole life to meet a dragon. So instead of being scared, she walked outside and said, "Hi." "Hi," said Mortimer. They sat together until the moon went down. Mortimer told her about the place dragons go in the day, which is a soft cave with a lot of clouds in it. Iris told him about the place children go in the day, which is school, and which has, in her opinion, fewer clouds than it should. Mortimer left before sunrise. "I'll come back," he said. "You sleep." Iris went to sleep. Mortimer ate one more tomato. The night kept doing its job. And soon, so did Iris.