The wrapping-paper shop opened while the ribbons were still stretching after a quiet night on their spool. Each sheet took a ruler no longer than a finger, measured a smile across the counter, and waited for the bow to nod before folding around a single box.
We asked the keeper, who keeps spare gold curls in a biscuit tin labeled after birthdays. "They are not hiding a surprise," she said. "They are wrapping a hello. One box is plenty if the bow has been greeted first."
In the little book by the till someone had written, in handwriting as tidy as a crease: "The paper waited, and the bow nodded back. Please do not double-wrap. — a grateful jam jar."