A sparkle floated through the air, riding the currents of the wind. Its path might have been as random as that of dandelion fluff, or perhaps not. It floated over rivers and lakes, past valleys and mountains, and slowly, slowly, began to descend.
The sparkle may have been a fleck of shiny paint, or glitter from a child’s grand masterpiece. Or it may have been leftover magic from a wizard’s enchantment, cast to bring his withering garden back to life.
The breeze stalled, sending the sparkle down between the trees and the bushes, over the grass and the flowers. Gently, gently, it pushed the sparkle in through the open window where it settled comfortably in the cake batter.