Make way for other toys
On the fifth of November, the day of his retirement, John Paper received a gold watch and a generous sum of money in recognition of his many years of dedicated service and responsibility. The company threw a small party for him, and he was ushered on his way with much back-slapping and hand-shaking. He would be missed, everybody said, and they believed it.
It was of course a pleasure to know that he had been a valued employee, but what was he to do now?
Well, it was the closing of an era, at any rate. John had no use for gold watches, pretty though they might be, so he supposed he'd simply have to put it away with the other memories -- the programmes from his wedding, his children's milk teeth, his high school photographs, all the relics of his past. So he made his way to his study and opened up the bottom drawer of his desk, the one which he never opened, and tucked the watch in among the other memories.
His fingers came into contact with something old and dusty: a crayon picture of a dragon, drawn in his kindergarten days, its colours faded beyond recognition and the paper itself yellowed with age. Why had he kept this all these years? Oh yes ... Puff.
Puff didn't exist except in his imagination, of course.
Right?
But the memories were strong, and seemingly more real than any other childhood memory. Puff, the magic dragon, who lived by the sea and who had been his constant companion in his childhood adventures....
"Oh, Puff," he whispered, picking up the watch again. "Are you there? Look, it's real gold...."
Somewhere, he thought he heard laughter, and something very like a huge draconian tail sweeping through neatly raked piles of autumn leaves. And John -- no, Jack; Jackie -- knew that the question was not why he'd kept that drawing safe all these years; it was why he'd kept it away.
It was of course a pleasure to know that he had been a valued employee, but what was he to do now?
Well, it was the closing of an era, at any rate. John had no use for gold watches, pretty though they might be, so he supposed he'd simply have to put it away with the other memories -- the programmes from his wedding, his children's milk teeth, his high school photographs, all the relics of his past. So he made his way to his study and opened up the bottom drawer of his desk, the one which he never opened, and tucked the watch in among the other memories.
His fingers came into contact with something old and dusty: a crayon picture of a dragon, drawn in his kindergarten days, its colours faded beyond recognition and the paper itself yellowed with age. Why had he kept this all these years? Oh yes ... Puff.
Puff didn't exist except in his imagination, of course.
Right?
But the memories were strong, and seemingly more real than any other childhood memory. Puff, the magic dragon, who lived by the sea and who had been his constant companion in his childhood adventures....
"Oh, Puff," he whispered, picking up the watch again. "Are you there? Look, it's real gold...."
Somewhere, he thought he heard laughter, and something very like a huge draconian tail sweeping through neatly raked piles of autumn leaves. And John -- no, Jack; Jackie -- knew that the question was not why he'd kept that drawing safe all these years; it was why he'd kept it away.