Things required to read a story: One book, large enough to glow. One dog, old enough to ignore everything. One child, young enough to stand on furniture and call it standing. One lamp. One arm that knows the exact pressure between catching and letting go. Things that happen anyway: The caterpillar wriggles. The page turns. The boy does not sit down. The story ends. The boy does not sit down. You start again from the beginning.