At dusk in Felt Presence, a skeleton gave the ceramic pumpkin a quick polish. He became alarmingly shiny.

“Healthy complexion,” he told the others.

The moth landed beside him and saw another moth in his glaze.

For several minutes they inspected one another.

“New lamp tester?” asked a skeleton.

“Training,” said the ceramic pumpkin.

The moth opened his notebook and wrote: quiet, punctual, promising.

The pumpkin pulled his mustard waistcoat a little higher.

When the lamps went out, the reflection disappeared.

“Gone home,” he said.

The skeletons left a second thimble by the lamp, in case the new employee needed a desk.