Massab polishes the front window of his fabric shop every morning. The narrow street outside hums with footsteps and carts.
He sets out three special bolts near the door: one blue as sky, one gold as sunshine, one red as summer apples.
A small child slips through the door on wobbly legs. She spots the red bolt first and wraps the silk around her shoulders.
The fabric slips and slides and lands right over her eyes. 'Boo!' she says through the silk.
Massab kneels down and gently lifts the end of the scarf. The child peeks out and giggles.
She wraps it around her head like a crown, then drapes it over one arm like a banner, then loops it twice around her neck and lets it trail behind her like a train.
She marches to the window and holds the silk up to the light. Sunlight pours through the red fabric and paints the whole shop floor in warm pink.
A butterfly lands on the scarf and spreads its wings. The child freezes, eyes wide, and whispers 'hello.'
The butterfly drifts away. The child lets the silk fall and turns to Massab, her whole face shining.
Massab sits on his stool and watches the pink light shimmer across the bolts. He strokes the edge of the red silk.
He thinks this is exactly beautiful.
Outside, the street keeps humming, but inside the shop is quiet and golden and exactly beautiful.