Last Wednesday, Snip and Mop went missing.
Their bows were still on the fencepost, right where they left them. Their bells were gone. So was the wind.
At first, Fluffletown assumed they’d just wandered — into the drawer maze, or the sock loft, or that warm place behind the bakery where thoughts sometimes get stuck.
But by nightfall, the air had gone still. The cinnamon smell faded. The laundryline sagged. Someone dropped a button and it didn’t bounce.
On Friday, a small note appeared under the weather clock. It said:
“Found a new breeze. Back when it’s boring.”
No name. No bow. Just a pawprint. Two, actually.