Philip lived in a grey, multi-storey block of flats on Maple Street. The block looked like all the others in the neighbourhood. People went in and out through a heavy door with a handle that always creaked, and neighbours only said: "Good morning" or "Good morning, Mrs Nowak". Philip was 13 years old, but he believed that life was not boring at all, if only one could look carefully enough. Every staircase had its own interesting smell, every stone under the block of flats hid a story, and there were treasures of everyday life in flat 27, which he shared with his mum and cat Sigmund. The most important of these was the green-coloured sofa standing under the window. It was such an ordinary couch, a little worn out, a little out of shape. On it lay a cushion. It wasn't pretty at all - it had green leaves on a cream background and was as soft as a childhood blanket. Philip liked to squeeze it when he was reading books or thinking about school. One gloomy afternoon, as the wind rustled the curtains, Philip sat on the sofa with a book about pirates. When he reached for his pillow, he felt something strange - as if the wind was trembling under his fingers. Sigmund the cat lifted his head, blinked his eyes and ran his moustache. Philip squeezed the pillow even tighter. It was then that something inexplicable happened. He began to hear a sound... like the rustling of leaves somewhere very close by. He looked around, but saw nothing in particular. The leaves on the cushion seemed to move, as if they were weaving invisible patterns. Sigmund moved closer, watching the cushion with interest. Philip closed his eyes. He felt the couch tremble gently, as if it were floating somewhere far away. When he opened his eyes, he saw that his room had begun to change. Green leaves from the cushion appeared on the walls, began to swirl, and the air smelled like a forest after a summer rain. Suddenly he heard a knock on the door. Not the usual neighbourly knocking, but quiet, as if someone was tapping... from inside the cushion. Philip and the cat looked at each other with wide-open eyes. At that moment, the cushion under his hand got really heavy, as if it was hiding something special. Should he rip it open? Or touch the leaf that was shining the most? Philip's breathing quickened and Sigmund arched his back, ready for anything. The green leaves began to shine brighter and brighter, and the tapping sounded clearer than ever before....