The wooden chair in the hallway woke first. Along its back the wool scarves had opened a morning line for necks. Guests wrapped themselves one at a time, while the keeper issued tickets of thread and asked nobody to hurry the neighboring coil.
We asked at the kiosk by the square. "I thought the scarves were racing," said the woman who sells mittens. "They were only taking turns. A scarf that wraps twice leaves the next neck without a greeting, and then the whole hallway looks as if it forgot how to keep warm."
The next morning a cat came back and sat on the chair until one small coil had finished its loop. After that the hats nodded a little kinder, and nobody skipped ahead.