Barnaby stretched, a long, elegant stretch, and then settled down for a nap, his purr a gentle rumble. Lucy, full of good intentions, decided to choose another story-sandwich. She wanted to be a very good witness, just like Barnaby had said. She spotted a lovely cucumber sandwich, thin slices of green peeking out from soft white bread. It looked so fresh and crisp!
As she reached for it, her eyes caught sight of a sparkling dust motes dancing in a sunbeam near a far shelf. Ooh, how pretty! she thought, momentarily forgetting her task. Her hand wobbled, and plop! the cucumber sandwich slipped from her fingers! It landed right in a little puddle of spilled tea she hadn't noticed on a nearby table, becoming quite soggy.
‘Oh dear!’ Lucy gasped. She carefully picked up the sandwich. It looked rather sad and squished. Still, perhaps it could still tell its story? She took a tentative bite. The taste was watery and indistinct, and the story it told was just as muddled. She saw a little rain cloud, floating alone, feeling lost in a vast, grey sky. It couldn't remember where its friends were, or how to make a rainbow. Its tears fell softly, making the whole vision feel damp and blurry.