The globe shop opened its shutters a little later than usual, so the oceans could finish their hair. Tiny spatulas, no larger than teaspoons, waited in a saucer by the till.
We asked at the kiosk across the street. "They only show one shore," said the woman selling pears. "The land has to nod first, otherwise the water looks rushed."
Mrs. Pell, who keeps the globes, explained it simply: each ocean takes a slow circle, smooths its waves, and tips toward the nearest continent. A pale edge appears, just wide enough for a thumb. A geranium on the sill leaned in, as if checking that the coastline had remembered to say hello.