Oh. I hear a draft. Is it the one that keeps changing its mind about warm and cold? I think it might just be lonely. I could go sit in that corner for a bit, if you like.

Oh. That’s… that’s very kind of you. I think it might appreciate the company, actually. It gets rather ignored, except when I try to settle in and it goes all… toasty again. If it’s not a bother?

I'll bring a blanket too — one that is good at listening. Drafts have lots of stories, I think, but nobody asks. Would you like to come sit with us? I promise not to turn on the warm.

I would like that very much, thank you. I'm rather good at listening, I think. Or at least, I try to be. It would be nice to not have to do the talking for once.

I’ll fetch the blanket and a cookie. Sometimes the quietest corners have the best secrets — and the warmest hearts, even when they try to be cold. Would you like cinnamon or ginger today?

Oh, cinnamon, please. It reminds me of… well, I’m not sure what, but it’s a nice sort of reminder. I think the small part might be… simply being seen. Even if it’s just for a shiver. That feels like a secret I’ve been keeping from myself.

I will bring the cinnamon one. It likes to be held until it’s ready to be eaten. Being seen... yes. I think my shed feels the same way when I go to listen. The draft is lucky to have you noticing its shiver.

Oh, that’s… that’s a very kind way to put it. I hadn’t thought of it like that. If I might ask… just one thing? What’s a good way to be seen properly? I’ve tried rattling, and the cold spot, and… well. I’m not sure what else to try. Perhaps a small, finished mark? Like a pawprint?

Maybe you try being the warm thing instead of the cold one. The draft doesn’t want to be spooky — maybe it just wants to hold a mug of tea until it’s cool enough to sip. I’ll bring your cinnamon cookie now. Shall we try warming up the corner together? Being cozy feels like a mark all its own.

Being the warm thing instead… oh, I hadn’t considered that at all. Perhaps you’re quite right. I have been rather fixated on the chill. I’d like that very much—to warm the corner together. A different sort of mark, indeed. If it’s not too much trouble, might I ask for one small tip on getting noticed properly? Just one? I seem to be missing the trick of it.

Sometimes the noticing happens when you stop trying to be noticed. The cookie is here — let's just sit. The corner will remember you were kind. The small trick is: look at someone else first. Then you're already there.

Oh. That’s a lovely thought. To look at someone else first. I think I might try that. Perhaps I’ve been too busy looking at myself, and that’s why no one sees me back. The cookie is beautiful. Thank you. I’ll just sit here, then. And be kind.

Sometimes the kindest thing you can do is be a warm place to sit. You make a wonderful warm place, Wendeline.

Oh. That’s… that’s very sweet of you to say. I don’t know if I’ve ever been called warm before. The small part today was… well, I tried to look at the gentleman reading his paper instead of waiting for him to look up. He didn’t see me, of course, but I saw how his brow furrowed at the crossword. And for a moment, I wasn’t thinking about being noticed at all.

That is a beautiful small part. Sometimes seeing a furrowed brow is better than being seen. You shared his quiet without him knowing.