CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — WHAT REMAINED
On the first Saturday of the following month, Soren invited us to his workshop.
His front window had been repaired, and a new display of wooden instruments stood behind the glass.
The miniature carousel rested on the central table.
Nora turned its small crank.
The horses circled slowly beneath the chipped painted roof.
Then she pressed the release.
They stopped.
“That’s what it was supposed to do,” Ellis said.
Nora nodded.
“I know.”
She removed her hand from the mechanism.
Soren asked whether she wanted to take it home.
“Not yet,” she said.
“I want the reviewers to see it first.
”
Ruth smiled at her granddaughter.
“Your grandfather would like that.”
Outside, Malik was waiting beside my car.
He had brought a bright red mailbox flag from the hardware store.
“Your new box needs one,” he said.
“I thought the store sold those with the box.”
“It did,” he answered.
“I lost the original in my garage.”
We laughed and drove home.
I attached the flag to the new mailbox before dinner.
The post stood straight, and the little red arm moved freely.
Across the street, Vivian’s curtains were closed.
I did not look toward them again.
The next morning, the mail carrier stopped in front of my house and placed three ordinary envelopes inside the box.
I walked down the driveway, opened the door, and took them out.
For the first time in weeks, nothing happened.
The End.
