Hypnagogia

He sat on the bench, watching the fountain as day turned into night.

The first star appeared, reflected in the water just as it shone in the sky.

Then it was no longer above him. Instead, a glowing fish swam through the fountain.

He watched without moving, wondering if this was the form stars took when they came down here to swim.

As he glanced back up to where the star had been, a child approached the fountain to feed it.

The child bounced dimes off the edge, laughing as the fish leapt to catch them.

The light and the giggles made him smile, the wrinkles in his face deepened—almost as if every smile he had ever given had stayed right where it began.

The child was soon called away by parents too busy to notice the fish, or too tired to listen.

He remained on the bench, perfectly still, unwilling to disturb the dream. But morning came, and the fish was gone.

Slowly, with the weight of his years, he stood and walked away, casting one last look at the fountain.