The next morning, the little thing went looking for the blue thing.
It was not there.
The little thing looked beside the river.
It looked under a tree.
It looked behind a stone.
Then it heard a sound.
“River.”
The little thing looked up.
Someone was standing beside the water.
“River,” they said again.
The little thing looked at the water.
“River?”
“Yes,” said the someone.
The little thing looked at the water for a long time.
“So that is its name?”
“Yes.”
The little thing was delighted.
It ran along the bank.
“River!”
The river did not answer.
The little thing found the green thing.
“What is that?”
“Tree.”
“Tree!”
It ran around the tree.
“Tree!”
Then it found the blue thing.
“What is that?”
“Sky.”
“Sky!”
The little thing looked up.
The blue thing was enormous.
It had never noticed how enormous it was before.
It sat down and thought about names.
A name could stay with something even when the thing went away.
The river could still be called river when the little thing was far from it.
The tree could still be called tree when it was dark.
The sky could still be called sky when nobody was looking.
The little thing tried this with everything.
“Stone.”
“Bird.”
“Grass.”
“Cloud.”
“Rain.”
Each time, something happened.
The thing remained what it had always been.
But now the little thing could find it again in its thoughts.
Then the little thing saw something it had never seen before.
It pointed.
“What is that?”
The someone looked.
“That is a bird.”
The bird flew away.
The little thing watched until it disappeared.
Then it smiled.
“Bird,” it said.
The bird was gone.
But the name remained.
The little thing had found something that could stay when the thing itself had gone.
That evening, when the sky became dark, the little thing looked up.
“Sky,” it whispered.
Then it wondered:
“If the name can stay when the thing is gone,
where does the name go?”
The little thing had found a name.
Now it had found a question.
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