By breakfast the front doors had grown a little rounder. Along the street the Christmas wreaths opened a morning queue for pine cones. Each guest took one place in the circle. The attendant handed out ribbon bows and asked nobody to hurry the neighboring needle.
We asked at the kiosk by the square. "I thought the wreaths had gone lopsided," said the woman who sells matches. "They were only seating guests. A cone that rushes leaves a gap, and then the whole door looks as if it forgot how to smile."
The next morning a sparrow came back and sat on the knocker until one small cone had settled. After that the bows sat a little kinder, and nobody skipped ahead.