By breakfast the napkin holder had begun issuing tiny fold timetables. Each square greeted the plate, nodded to the spoon, and sat down as exactly one triangle, as if the tablecloth had asked for a very small, very tidy guest.
We asked at the kiosk. "I used to shake them out any which way," said a woman with a thermos. "Now I wait. The spoon already knows which corner is coming."
The next day the same napkin came back and folded itself once more. The spoon only nodded, and the whole table smelled a little more like lunch.