It had been raining since the morning. The rain drummed on the window sills, dripped off the lime tree leaves and made wet patterns on the pavement. And then, as if someone had turned off the tap, the sun came out. The whole yard smelled of wet dust, laundry soap and fresh leaves. Lila pulled on her wellies in lemons, threw on a colourful cape and ran down the stairs. Behind her, like an orange flame, ran Beetroot. Beetroot was not a vegetable. Beetroot was a cat with red hair, a white muzzle and a tail that always looked like it was telling its own story. In the backyard, everything was familiar: the arbor, the bench, the sandpit, the big maple tree that reached almost to the roof. And puddles. Lots of puddles. The biggest one spilled out under the shaker like a round mirror. Lila approached it with a flourish, ready to splash, but stopped in mid-step. This water was different. It didn't reflect her block or her mum's balcony. Not a twig twisted by the wind. Clouds swayed in the puddle, but they were shaped like big fish with soft fins. A milky circle hung in the middle, like the moon, even though it was daytime. Around the circle tiny lights flashed, as if someone had spilled sugar and taught it to glow. Beet sat up, curled his paws and purred as quietly as if he were purring in his sleep. Lila leaned over and blew on the taffy. Instead of a splash, a circle appeared, and then a second and a third. The circles did not spread across the ordinary water. They danced, like light rings. Lila plucked a leaf from the maple tree. She placed it gently on the puddle. The leaf did not get wet. It trembled, curled in place and began to flow into the depths, although it looked as if it was flowing flat. After a while it disappeared. Not a splash. Not a drop. - Can you hear it? - whispered Lila, because suddenly everything seemed too loud. Beet crooked his head. There was a quiet sound coming from the puddle, like a bell somewhere in the grass. Or like a doorbell, only very distant. Lila crouched down. The water smelled of something she didn't know. A bit like the air before a storm, and a bit like a freshly cut apple. In the depths she could see something that resembled a meadow. Only the grass rippled, like the sea, and the blowflies were as big as balls. - It's a window,' she said to herself. - A window into... something. Beet put out his paw and touched the water. The paw disappeared up to his ankle, as if he had plunged it into the soft, warm air. Lila screamed and grabbed the cat by the tail, but Burak calmly removed the paw. It was dry. She smelled of an unfamiliar wind. - Burak, did you see? - Lila laughed, although her heart beat a little faster. A swallow perched above the puddle. It looked inside, squawked softly and flew away, as if in a hurry to deliver a message. The sheets swayed on the string next to the arbor and for a moment looked like white sails. Something moved beneath the surface. The water rose like a breath. A paper ship emerged among the circles. A real one, made of folded sheets of paper, with a small mast. On the mast dangled a tiny bell, which rang tinklingly with every gust. Lila blinked. The ship came to shore and stopped right beside her calico. It was not wet. On its side it had a yellow card taped to it. It stood evenly on it: Lila and Burak. - 'After all, no one could have written that,' said Lila to the cat's ears. - Except... - she broke off, because she didn't know except for whom. Beet touched the ship with his nose and the bell rang, as if someone had whispered: ding. Lila carefully took the ship in her hands. The paper was warm, not from drawing paper, but as if from something airborne. She looked inside. There she found an unruly ribbon the colour of the sky and a tiny silver button. When she touched the button, the surface of the puddle pulsed. The circles that had previously danced began to form a path. One bright disc, then another, a third, like steps downwards. But strange steps, because they started in an ordinary puddle and ended somewhere in a meadow full of blowpipes as big as clouds. Lila felt a tickle in her stomach. That tickle that comes when you know something is just beginning. She looked around. Everything was as usual and different at the same time. Even the sounds from the stairwell became quieter, as if someone had covered them with a soft blanket. - Maybe it's an invitation - she muttered. - Or a letter from... from the meadow? Beet replied with a short gulp. He tensed his moustache and nodded. Can cats nod? This one could. Lila knelt by the edge of the puddle. The sun had moved a piece and shone so that everything was a flash. In the depths she saw a path made of bright pebbles. To the left grew flowers that looked like umbrellas, and to the right were winding silver grasses, taller than she was. Something flew by. Not a bird. Something that had wings like three leaves. Suddenly a whisper rose from the water. Quiet, soft, as if someone were speaking through a pillow: - Lila... The girl's cheeks grew hot. - 'Here I am,' she answered reflexively and immediately looked around to see if anyone had heard her. There was no one. Just sheets on a string and one modest cloud that stopped over a maple tree. The bell rang again. Ding. Ding. The vessel in her hands trembled, as if it had a tiny heart inside. The ribbon moved and muscled her finger. Lila suddenly felt the desire to stand on the first light circle. If only for a moment. If only with the end of a calico. - I'll just touch it,' she said. - I'll see if it's for real. Beetroot followed her gaze and put his paws right on the bank. His tail now told a story of adventure: thick at the end and raised high. Lila stretched out her hand. She wanted to catch her balance, so she touched the surface of the water with her fingers. It was warm. Not wet. Her wrist smelled of grass, which wasn't here. Somewhere very far away a laugh sounded. Childish, light as a soap bubble. The puddle rippled once, twice and suddenly became as deep as a well. The bottom disappeared. Instead she saw a sky that was not her sky. It was purple, and bright ovals flowed across it. Two larger ones and one smaller one. From the depths someone else's waving flowed towards her. It was as if someone below was standing and waving with both hands, asking: go on, go on, don't stop. Lila felt herself laughing and a little afraid at the same time. But it felt good to be scared like that on the inside, like when you stand on the top step of a slide and the world is bigger for a moment. The light circles became clearer. The first one touched almost the tip of her wellington, like a frog asking to be jumped on. The second flashed right next to her and in its centre flashed something that could have been a feather or a ray. - 'Beetroot,' whispered Lila. - 'If we go, we'll be back for dinner. For sure. The cat blinked in agreement. He dragged himself along as if to say: just go, I'm coming. Lila took a breath. She placed the paper ship on the shore so that no one would snatch it. She pressed it with a silver button. She tied a ribbon around her wrist. She stood up. She rested one hand on the arbor and stretched the other over the water. At the same instant, something moved beneath the surface, right near the tip of her shoe. A shadow. First narrow as a thread, then wider, brighter, as if someone had poured light from a jug. The bell on the flagpole chimed louder, the sheets on the string rippled, and the air above the puddle sang softly, like a shell by the ear. And then, from the very centre of the water, exactly opposite her wellingtons, something brushed her gently from underneath, like the touch of a hand waiting on the other side.