He did not anticipate winning. And yet when he went to sleep on the night before the race, he envisioned crossing the finish line to a screaming fanfare. The riot of noise and celebration in his mind rivaled that which met the unveiling of great works of art, of celebrities, of new gaming consoles on Black Friday. Everyone would be cheering, and for him. Far behind, the hare would be desperate to regain a length, not to win, but to at least suffer a more dignified defeat.
He would win graciously, of course. He had not always been lightning-fast and he understood what it felt like to always be in the rear of the pack. But just once . . .
Well, it wouldn’t happen. But he could dream.
This one’s a little rushed, but I hope you like it anyhow.