At lunchtime in Felt Presence, the skeletons laid out a dollhouse tea service.

The ceramic pumpkin watched from behind a spool of ribbon.

“Joining us?”

“Only for the biscuits.”

There were no biscuits. A skeleton drew three on a scrap of paper.

The pumpkin settled beside a teacup. When they touched, both gave a small, clear ding.

“Same music teacher,” he said quickly.

The teacup said nothing.

Later, the skeletons found him still there, reading the care label from his emergency pocket.

“It likes a story,” he explained.

The teacup was lying on its side.

The skeletons put the paper biscuits away for tomorrow.