“What shall we do today, Goldilocks?”

Lutea’s fish, swimming idly in her bowl, did not reply.

“Fine then, I’ll think of something myself.”

Lutea paced back and forth on her tiled floor, each tile handmade and unique. She stared at her walls, covered in green wallpaper of her own design and accented with beautifully painted fruits (because why not?). There were so many possibilities, a paralyzing panoply of possibilities in point of fact.

Perhaps arts and crafts? Lutea examined her last project, an umbrella with the same sorts of fruits that covered her wall. She lounged on the wooden bench that doubled as bed and couch, chair and china cabinet. Well, quadrupled as those things anyhow. There were so many unfinished art projects on and underneath it that she’d have to do a mighty clearing the next time she wanted to sleep.

Perhaps best not to start anything new, then.

“Goldilocks, you’re usually so helpful when I can’t decide what to do today,” Lutea said, pouting slightly.

The fish swam about her bowl, blithely fanning her tiny gills.

“All right, I’m sorry about what I said the other day,” said Lutea. “You’re not a silly fish. The walking stick was a very good idea, I just felt like modifying it a little bit since there’s nowhere to walk and you never know when it might rain.”

“That’s better,” the goldfish said, her sweet voice warbled by the waters in which she swam. “Is a simple apology so hard?”

“Harder before you’ve done it than after,” laughed Lutea. “Now let’s hear your idea for today. I can see in your eyes that you’ve got one.”

“We should make some more tiles, Lutea. It may not be as fun as other things, but we can make the place bigger! Maybe even find someplace new!”

It was a simple suggestion, perhaps, but–as always–a good one. Lutea sat on her bench, stretched out her arms, and concentrated. After a moment, the thin outline of a tile, more like a washed-out photograph than anything, began to appear. Following a little more mental effort, the dust of the universe coalesced into something firm enough to be held.

“What do you think for colors, Goldilocks?”

“Raspberry and vanilla swirl!”

“Oooh! You always know just what will work.” Lutea swirled her hands, and as she did so vibrant colors blossomed forth across the plain surface, following the every motion of her hands like a viscous liquid. When the pattern caught her fancy, she froze it and held the completed tile up. Goldilocks flipped her tail in approval, and Lutea laid the tile in a gap at the edge of her place.

One more square looking into the infinite starry void that surrounded them filled up. Lutea looked out over the endless expanse thoughtfully, picking out a few minor bits of debris and a great void-whale to which she waved before turning back.

“If you can concentrate a bit harder, Lutea, we can make more than one at once,” said Goldilocks. “Then we could blaze a bath and see what’s out there, away from our little patch.”

“Someday, Goldilocks. Someday.”

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