A Moon Small as a Button

Cleo set the library books on the returns counter with their spines facing Grandpa. One was about beetles. One was about bread. The last was about a duck who refused to get wet.

“That duck needs an umbrella,” Grandpa said.

“He needs to read his own book,” said Cleo. “He's a duck.”

Grandpa nodded as if this were a very important point.

The librarian smiled and slid the beetle book beneath her scanner. It made a little peep. Cleo liked that sound. It seemed as though the library were saying thank you for bringing its books back.

Beside the counter stood a basket of books ready to borrow. Cleo had already chosen one with a silver moon on the cover. Inside, a tiny moon was hidden in every picture.

“Don't start without me,” Grandpa said. “I'm rather good at moons.”

“You thought the last one was a fried egg.”

“It was a very moonish egg.”

Cleo tucked the new book under her arm while the librarian checked in the others. Grandpa stood beside the end of the counter, folding their empty book bag into a square. He could never get the handles to cooperate.