Boxes and Bunny Slippers

"Pack the kitchen box first," called Mum from the hall. Amelia heard it and ran to the kitchen. She wanted to take her yellow cup to the new house. It was her favourite. It had a chip on the handle shaped like a tiny moon.

But the kitchen was bare. The shelves were empty. The cups were gone.

"Where is my cup?" said Amelia.

"In a box," said Dad. "Somewhere."

The hall was full of boxes. Big ones, small ones, and one shaped like a bread loaf. Amelia opened the first one. Towels. She opened the second. Spoons.

"Not my cup," she said.

She opened the third box. Out jumped her bunny slippers, and they went flop on the floor. Amelia giggled. She opened the fourth. A rolled-up rug sprang open like a yawn.

Now there was a mess. Still no cup.

Amelia sat down on a box and thought. Opening every box was too slow. She needed a different way.

Then she heard a small sound from the truck outside. Clink, clink.

Amelia held very still. Clink, clink, it went again. A box was making a noise! A box full of cups would clink.

She ran to the truck and put her ear to one box after another. Towels said nothing. Spoons went jingle. The bread-loaf box said clink, clink.

"Dad! This one!"

Dad cut the tape. Inside, wrapped in a sock, was the yellow cup. The moon on the handle was still there.

Amelia carried it into the new kitchen. It was empty and echoey, and the floor was cold under her feet. She slid her bunny slippers on, set the cup on the very first shelf, and listened.

Clink, said the cup, as it settled.

"Home," said Amelia softly, and she tapped the little moon with one finger.