Early on, a short line formed at the thermos shop, not for flasks so much as for the tiny coats hanging by the kettle. The shopkeeper, who keeps a hook for steam and a quieter one for mist, explained the order as if it were manners. "He sits by the lid first," she said. "Then he nods to the mug. Only then may he come out, and only for one sip."
We asked a woman by the kiosk, who was holding a mug in both hands as if it were a shy guest. "Last winter he rushed out bare," she said. "The tea was still kind. The steam looked chilly, though." A note in the thank-you book added, in careful pencil: "The mug felt greeted. Please keep the coats."
The next morning the same woman came back with a spare saucer. She said the steam had waited in its coat, the sip had not even hurried, and one little overcoat was still folded on the lid, as if it hoped there might be cocoa again tomorrow.