Tovin’s Quiet Passing Game — Under the tall pine, Tovin tapped three coal buttons on his belly and whispered the rules of his new game: pass along one useful thing before the next snowflake lands on your hat. Read the full story →
Under the tall pine, Tovin tapped three coal buttons on his belly and whispered the rules of his new game: pass along one useful thing before the next snowflake lands on your hat. He wanted to try it at once, but his cozy drift hugged him tight and the air smelled of cold bark and clean snow. Across the meadow, two small snow children rolled crookedly, laughing, with one scarf end dragging like a tired tail.
Tovin stepped out. Crunch, hush, crunch. Each step cost him a little roundness, and a twig finger snapped off when he nudged through a crusty ridge. He tucked the twig in his scarf and kept going. At the pine, he gave one child his spare button for a lost coat-dot, and the twig to the other for a missing arm. “No clapping,” Tovin said softly. “That is the game.”
They only smiled, bright as windowlight. When Tovin returned, his belly had one less button and his hand was shorter, but the meadow felt wider, as if it had made room for him. Next time you spot his tilted hat under the tall pine, see if you can tell which gifts were passed before the snowflake landed.
