The lost property box
1The lost property box outside the school office had been overflowing since September. Nadia walked past it twice a day and had long ago stopped seeing it.
2On Wednesday, a single blue glove lay on top of the heap. It was hand-knitted, with a white star stitched onto the back and the thumb darned in slightly darker wool. Somebody, Nadia thought, had mended that thumb very carefully.
3At lunch she took the glove to the office. The secretary shrugged. "Nobody ever claims gloves," she said. "One glove is no use to anyone." Nadia asked for a sheet of paper anyway. She drew the star as neatly as she could, wrote FOUND: ONE BLUE GLOVE underneath, and pinned it to the noticeboard by the gate, where parents waited at the end of the day.
4The next afternoon, the notice had gone. In its place was a small card in careful handwriting: Thank you. It was my grandmother's last pair. Nadia read it twice, then looked at the lost property box, where a green scarf was trailing onto the floor.