The Ornament That Opened Winter — Every night, Arden polished the holiday gallery’s glass cases in the same order: silver bells, paper angels, then the huge round ornament no visitor had touched in years. Read the full story →
Every night, Arden polished the holiday gallery’s glass cases in the same order: silver bells, paper angels, then the huge round ornament no visitor had touched in years. Its lacquer smelled faintly of cedar and cold metal, and he liked that it never asked anything of him. Until one night, while his cloth circled the lower bow, a voice no louder than falling frost said, “Read the ribbon aloud.”
Because of that, Arden stopped humming. Because of that, the quiet grew so wide he could hear the snow tapping the skylight, tick by tick. He had not spoken first to anyone in months, not since his voice had begun to tremble in open rooms. Still, the bright loops and tiny stars seemed to wait without hurrying him.
Finally, he leaned close and whispered the words. Cheerful winter. Joy. The ornament warmed beneath his hand, and beyond the glass roof the first snow of the season lit the dark like a thousand careful sparks. Arden laughed once, small and startled, then began again with his cloth, circling the cedar-and-cold-metal shine.
