Stars in the Rain

Slavka knew all the constellations by heart and dreamed of drawing them on an umbrella. How wonderful it would be—if the umbrella became a tiny planetarium! But how to find, in the world of adults, someone who would allow him to realize such an idea…

It had been raining for a long time.

Reflections of the streetlights spread across the black asphalt like egg yolks on a frying pan.

Trees, houses, newsstands and plaster sculptures at the entrance to the little square had gotten used to such weather. They were already soaked as much as they could, and now they didn’t care. And each continued with their business: trees swayed their branches, fences held up damp posters about the arrival of the Moscow circus, houses banged their front doors and lit up with colorful windows, and the fanfare-blowers held their trumpets to their lips, preparing to sound off if something happened.