After the rain stopped, Max pulled on rubber boots and splashed out to the garden. Puddles winked in the grass like tiny silver mirrors. Squelch, squelch went his boots as he hopped from puddle to puddle.
Near the fence, Max found a snail. Its shell had tipped over sideways in the mud, and it was waving its little feelers slowly, as if it didn't quite know which way was up.
"Are you okay?" Max asked, crouching down close.
The snail didn't answer, of course, but it looked small and stuck and a little bit sad, tucked halfway into its shell. Max knew that feeling — like the time his shoe got stuck in the mud and he couldn't move at all.
"I'll help," Max said.
Using one gentle finger, he nudged the shell until it sat right-side up again. The snail's feelers wiggled out, slow and curious. But the ground around it was still soggy and cold.
Max looked around the garden. A big leaf lay nearby, wide as a plate. He carried it over and tucked it beside the snail like a little roof, keeping the wind off. Then he found a smooth, dry stone and placed it close by, just in case the snail wanted somewhere warm to rest.
"There," Max whispered. "Cozy."
The snail began to creep forward, slow and steady, leaving a shiny trail behind it. Scritch... scratch... scritch... scratch, its tiny body whispered against the leaf.
Max sat back on his heels and watched, smiling, until the snail tucked itself under the leaf-roof to rest.
When Mom called him in for warm socks and a snack, Max waved goodbye to the little shell. "Night night, snail," he said softly.
Inside, wrapped in a blanket with cocoa steam curling up, Max thought about the snail, safe and dry under its leafy roof. Outside, the garden grew quiet and dark, drip by drip, drop by drop, and Max's eyes grew heavy too, drifting closed like a little shell curling up to sleep.