There was an angel in the puddle.
Darius saw it for a second as he squelched along the road in his wet sandshoes.
He looked up at his mother, but she was looking across the road. She hadn’t seen it.
He looked around to see if it was somewhere else. But it wasn’t.
The first time his Dad had shown him a dragon in the sky, and Darius had known it was really an octopus, had started him feeling that his eyes were powerful. They could see things everywhere.
Sometimes he talked to his mother about the things he saw, and they argued and laughed because her eyes had different powers.
And sometimes he just thought about the things, and wondered where they had come from, and where they went.
There was the dolphin that he had seen in the first splash of soup in his white bowl. It had swum through warm seas speckled with coloured fish, and dark blue oceans so deep that mysterious creatures of other worlds moved far below the surface.
And the fluff mouse under his bed had once lived in a house with the man who made the best chocolate ice-cream in the world.
Yes, his eyes were powerful. But even more powerful when they were closed.
Then he could see his Dad and think about how he would have laughed about the clown in the mud stain on Darius’ T-shirt, and the elephants dancing in shadows on the wall at night.
Darius looked down as he climbed the steps outside the front door. The rain was dripping down from the roof.
He closed his eyes.
And there was an angel in the puddle.