“Just one more bubble!” Pigúiça begged, for the fifth time. Or maybe the sixth. She had lost count, and so had Fofuxo.
The two of them had been out in the flower meadow since lunchtime, blowing soap bubbles. There were small bubbles, medium bubbles, and one bubble so big that Nina the poodle swore she saw a cloud checking itself out in it.
But now the sun was sinking behind the hill, and the windows in the village were lighting up one by one. It was time to go home.
“I'm not sleepy,” said Pigúiça, and then she yawned so wide she almost swallowed a bubble. Fofuxo pretended not to notice.
“That's okay,” he said, sitting down in the grass. “But did you know that bubbles go to sleep too?” “Bubbles don't sleep,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Sure they do. Look.”
Pigúiça looked. The bubbles still floating in the air were drifting down, slower and slower, until they landed on the flowers. And the flowers, very gently, folded their petals around them, like someone tucking in a blanket.
“See?” Fofuxo whispered. “They played all day. Now they're resting, so tomorrow they can be nice and round again.”
Pigúiça thought about that. She had played all day too. Her paws felt heavy, and her tail could barely wag. “But what if tomorrow isn't as much fun?” she asked.
Fofuxo picked up the little jar of soap and blew one last bubble, very slowly. “Let's make a saving bubble,” he said. “You tell it everything you want to play tomorrow, and it keeps it safe for you.”
Pigúiça leaned in close to the bubble and whispered, “Tomorrow I want to make a bubble as big as a house. And race with Nina. And find the rock that sings the prettiest song.”
The bubble shimmered, full of plans, and settled onto a daisy, which closed around it ever so carefully. “There,” said Fofuxo. “It's saved. Tomorrow, the daisy gives it back.”
Then Pigúiça let Fofuxo carry her home on his back. On the way, she tried to count how many windows were glowing in the village. One, two, three... and she lost count all over again.
By the time they reached her bed, she was as floppy as a bubble that has landed. Fofuxo tucked the blanket around her, and she let out a big, round sigh.
Out in the meadow, the flowers swayed softly, keeping the bubbles and the plans safe. And Pigúiça slept, dreaming about tomorrow, which would be here very soon.
