At closing time in Felt Presence, the autumn choir relocated to the dollhouse conservatory.

The skeletons explained that the fern had already taken all the seats.

“We can stand,” said the pumpkins.

“Those too.”

They rehearsed in the ribbon aisle instead. The ceramic pumpkin supplied one careful ding. The moth mistook this for a lamp fault and opened a fresh page in his notebook.

From beneath the weighted blanket came a small approving silence.

The skeletons hung a sign on the conservatory: PRIVATE EVENT.

Inside, the fern continued attending itself.