The Snow Globe That Wandered

On Monday morning, the snow globe was on the wrong shelf.

Luca saw it at once. He opened the door of his candle workshop at seven. The room smelled of warm wax. Everything stood in its place, except the snow globe.

"Asha," he called. "Did you move my globe?"

Asha came in from the back room with a box of wicks. "No. Why?"

"It lives on the high shelf by the window. Look. It is on the table by the wax pot."

Asha put the box down and looked. Inside the glass, a tiny blue house stood under a tree. White snow slowly fell around it. Luca bought the globe at a market when he opened the workshop. It was the only thing in the room not for sale.

"Maybe you moved it yourself," she said. "You were tired on Friday."

"I never touch it. It is a rule."

Asha smiled. "Then we have a ghost."

"Do not joke," said Luca. He put the globe back on its shelf. He turned the little house to face the room. Then he went to work.

On Tuesday morning, the globe was gone again.

This time, it stood on the low shelf near the pouring room. Luca stared at it with his mouth open. The little house still faced the room. It seemed to watch him work.

"This is not funny," he said.

"I did not laugh," said Asha. But her eyes were bright. She loved puzzles more than anyone he knew. She took a pencil from behind her ear. "Let us find out what happens here. We need clues."

They drew a plan of the workshop on brown paper. Asha marked the high shelf with a cross. Then she marked the table. Then she marked the low shelf.

"Look at the path," she said. "The globe does not go in a straight line. But every night it moves a little closer to the middle."

"What is in the middle?"

"The big melting stove."

Luca rubbed his chin. "A ghost that likes warm places?"

"Maybe." Asha drew a line around the stove. "That is our first clue. The globe walks toward the heat."

Luca checked the door and every window. They were all locked. He climbed the ladder and looked at the roof. It was shut, with dust on the handle. He even looked in the cellar, behind the sacks of wax. Nobody was there.

"Maybe a thief," he said. "A thief with a strange hobby."

"A thief takes things," said Asha. "He does not carry them three steps and leave them."

On Tuesday evening, they made a trap. Luca put the globe on the high shelf. Asha spread a thin layer of white chalk dust over its glass. The dust showed every touch.

Then they locked the door and went home.

On Wednesday morning, they ran in together. The globe stood on the corner of the stove table. The glass was still covered in chalk dust, with no finger marks.

"That is impossible," said Luca. His voice was small.

Asha did not answer. She looked at the globe. Under its round glass base, a short grey thread stuck out. She pulled it gently into the light.

"Look," she said. "Wool."

"We do not own grey wool."

"No. And ghosts do not wear sweaters." She held it up. "This is our second clue. Somebody carried it in a grey scarf. That is why the glass has no marks."

"But the door was locked!"

"Two people have a key. You, and me." Asha stopped. "Wait. Does anyone else come in here at night?"

Luca opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he looked slowly at the nail beside the door.

A thick grey book hung there on a string. It was the cleaning book. The owner of the building wrote the rules inside the cover. A cleaner came every weekday night at ten. He washed the floor and emptied the bins. Luca never talked to him. They only met on the stairs, once, with a nod.

"I never read this," he said.

"Then read it now."

He opened the book and ran his finger down the page. Date after date, the cleaner wrote one short line. Floor washed. Bins empty. Door locked. Then he came to Friday.

"Floor washed. Bins empty. Door locked," Luca read. "Little blue house looked cold. Moved it nearer the stove. Hope this is OK."

Asha leaned over his shoulder. She read the next line. Then she read the one after.

"Monday," she said. "The little house was cold again. I think it needs more heat. Moved it a bit further."

"And Tuesday." Luca laughed so hard that he sat down on a sack. "He put it by the stove again. He wrote, I tied a bit of scarf around it. It should be warm."

"The scarf," said Asha. "That is why there was wool. And the book is our third clue."

"A ghost," said Luca, wiping his eyes. "I called a polite man with a mop a ghost."

"He is a very kind ghost."

They stopped laughing. Luca looked at the globe on the corner of the stove table. The little blue house sat close to the warm iron. The snow fell slowly around it.

"The house does not mind the heat," Asha said. "The cleaner thinks it is cold because it is made of snow."

"It is the kindest idea anyone ever had about my globe." Luca stood up and went to his desk. He found a clean card and a pen. He wrote a short note, then read it out loud.

"Dear friend. Thank you. The little house is not cold. But we like that you worry. Please leave it by the stove."

Asha smiled. "Sign it with your name."

"I think I will sign it from the little house."

He put the card in the book. Then he lifted the globe and gave it a last shake. White snow rose and turned in the glass. Asha lit one candle on the table beside it.

The flame bent and stood up again. Light fell across the glass. In the quiet room, the tiny house sat warm in the glow. The snow came down slowly around its door.