By seven the hat rack already had a line. Ushankas hung in a polite row, each pair of flaps waiting to greet the frost before closing for exactly one walk. The keeper of the rack held a bundle of wool ties and would not let two ears go warm at once.
We asked at the kiosk by the square. "I thought the hats were in a hurry," said the man who sells scarves. "They are only being careful. A flap that rushes leaves its neighbor still open, and then the whole morning feels a little drafty."
A notice appeared on the hanger in a careful frost print. Flaps close one walk at a time. Ties are issued from last year's wool. Ears that are still deciding should not be hurried.