Admitting the Amazing

Mr. Grumbles, a man whose face seemed permanently set in a frown, shuffled towards Pinky. He adjusted his spectacles, which had a tendency to slide down his nose, and cleared his throat. The children, who had been oohing and aahing over the magnificent, if entirely imaginary, Grumble-Go-Round, fell silent, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and a little bit of apprehension. They knew Mr. Grumbles wasn't exactly a fan of fun.

Pinky, who had been busy demonstrating how the Grumble-Go-Round could, in theory, spin on rainbow clouds, turned to face him. She offered a cheerful, slightly wobbly smile, her square body radiating a warmth that seemed to chase away the usual zoo chill. "Hello, Mr. Grumbles!" she chirped, her voice like a string of tiny bells. "Did you want to see the Grumble-Go-Round in action? It's quite spectacular, isn't it?"

Mr. Grumbles blinked. He looked at the Grumble-Go-Round, a creature that was part fluffy cloud, part a hundred tiny, giggling mirrors, and then he looked at Pinky. He looked at the children, their faces alight with pure, unadulterated joy. And then, something very peculiar happened. A tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. Then another. It was as if his face was trying to remember how to smile.