A train set had never been on Auden’s wish list. He’d been hoping for a football or a new catcher’s mitt or a more up-to-date video game system. Every few months there was a better one with greater speed and more amazing graphics and infinitely more bits, whatever those were. But the moment he put his hands on this Chesapeake & Ohio steam engine, he realized that he cared little for the latest adventures of Mario or Zelda or Sonic. This was what he’d always wanted, even if he hadn’t known it.

Before the singing of “Happy Birthday” and the blowing out of candles, while holding the engine in his hand as his father had put the lengths of track together, he could sense a . . . a what? It reminded Auden of putting his hand on the fabric covering of a speaker when the stereo’s volume was cranked up, except in this case there was no sound. Only a slight trembling. It went up Auden’s fingers and into his hands and traveled all the way to his elbow before ebbing.

He almost didn’t want to have to let go of it to set it on the track. Before doing so, he’d looked deeply into the working headlight, putting his eye right up to it, as though he were peering into a telescope. He expected it to light up once it sat on the rails and the throttle was turned up, but was surprised to see a slight glimmer there already, almost as though the engine were looking back at him, winking.

What Auden needed now was a proper depot. A destination for his train. Where it could stop, pick up and unload cargo. Maybe an engine house, too, and a water tower.

His father, at the far end of the kitchen and about to step out onto the deck to fire up the barbecue, called out loud enough to be heard through the entire house, “How many hot dogs you want, kiddo?”

Auden, transfixed by his splendid gift, seemed not to hear his father.

“Auden!”

The boy blinked, as though awakened from a trance-like state, and shouted his reply: “Two!”

He gave the throttle a nudge, wanting to start the train at a crawl, the way it would begin moving in the real world.

The locomotive made a clicking sound, but failed to move.

Outside, his father opened the lid of the barbecue with his left hand, and clicked the wand lighter he held firmly in his right. A small flame appeared at the end.

Gripping the engine, Auden moved the train back and forth an inch, in case the electrical connection between the wheels and the track had momentarily been lost. He turned the throttle again. The train moved half an inch, and stopped.