The Thursday Stop

Tamsin took bus nine home from work every day. The ride was long. She knew every stop by heart.

One Thursday, the bus driver spoke. His name was Wiktor. He had a kind, tired voice.

"Next stop, Lamp Street," he said.

Tamsin looked up. "There is no Lamp Street," she said.

"There is," said Wiktor. "But only on Thursdays."

The bus stopped. The doors opened with a soft sound. Outside, she saw a small square and one tall lamp. A long table stood under the light.

Tamsin looked at the empty seats on the bus. Nobody else moved. She got off.

The air was warm. The square was quiet. On the table, she saw many things. There were gloves, keys, books, and umbrellas. There was a blue hat and a yellow bag.

A woman sat behind the table. She wore a green coat. "Good evening," she said. "My name is Anouk."

"What is this place?" Tamsin asked.

"This is the stop for lost things," said Anouk. "Everything people lose on the bus comes here."

"Everything?" asked Tamsin.

"Yes, everything. But the stop is open only one night each week."

Tamsin walked along the table. She looked at every thing. Then she stopped. Her heart jumped.

"My red scarf!" she said. "I lost it last winter."

"Then it is yours," said Anouk. She gave Tamsin the scarf. It was soft and clean. It smelled like her old home.

"Thank you," said Tamsin. She put it around her neck.

Just then, a small boy ran into the square. He was about six years old. His face was wet with tears.

"I lost my train," he said. "It is a little wooden train."

"This is Cosimo," said Anouk. "He comes here every Thursday."

"Every Thursday?" asked Tamsin. "Why?"

"He loses something every week," said Anouk, and she smiled. "He is a very busy boy."

Cosimo looked at the table. He did not see his train. His mouth shook.

"Let me help," said Tamsin. "We can look together."

They looked under the books. They looked behind the bags. They looked inside the hat.

"I see something," said Cosimo. He pointed under a big umbrella.

It was a little red wooden train. Cosimo took it and held it tight.

"Thank you!" he said. His smile was very big.

Wiktor called from the bus. "Last call! The bus goes in one minute."

Tamsin looked at Anouk. "Will the stop be here next week?" she asked.

"Yes," said Anouk. "Every Thursday, when the lamp is on."

"Does it move to other streets?" asked Tamsin.

"No. It stays here. But you must ride the bus on Thursday. That is the rule."

Tamsin thought about the rule. She liked it. Other days, the stop was not there. Only on Thursday did the door open for lost things.

"Goodbye, Tamsin," said Anouk.

"Goodbye," said Tamsin. "Goodbye, Cosimo."

Cosimo waved his little train. "See you on Thursday!" he said.

Tamsin got back on the bus. She sat by the window. The doors closed. The bus began to move.

She looked back at the square. The lamp was bright. Then the street turned, and the lamp was gone.

On Friday, Tamsin rode the bus again. Wiktor did not say a word about Lamp Street. She looked out of the window. There was only the old, plain road.

She touched the red scarf around her neck. Then she took out her pen. On her hand, she wrote one word.

Thursday.