Jovie Finds Her Branch — Under the chandelier alcove, Jovie counted the soft places where she might hang: one velvet ribbon, two cedar twigs, three curled wires that smelled faintly of dust and oranges. Read the full story →
Under the chandelier alcove, Jovie counted the soft places where she might hang: one velvet ribbon, two cedar twigs, three curled wires that smelled faintly of dust and oranges. Her little chest bell made a low clink whenever she leaned close to listen. She wanted a place that would not tug or spin, somewhere her antlers could hold their stars without brushing the ceiling.
The alcove brightened as the evening lamps woke one by one. Snowflake cutouts turned slowly in the warm air, and round glass baubles answered the light with tiny suns of their own. Jovie stepped nearer to a silver-striped globe and saw another reindeer gazing back, small and curved and shining from inside the glass.
“Are you waiting too?” Jovie whispered.
The reflected reindeer lifted the same hopeful face, but behind her Jovie noticed something new: a narrow branch she had missed, tucked between pine needles and a spray of red berries. It was just high enough for antlers, just still enough for stars, and the glass bauble beside it would keep her company with every lamp-lit shimmer.
Jovie settled there as if the alcove had been holding its breath for her. Her bell gave one round note, clink, and if you find the pine sprig near her scarf, you may spot the place that smelled of dust and oranges.
