Snowy morning wrapped the little train station in hush.
Then a gust whistled through. A paper crane flew out of Dolly’s scarf and skipped over the platform like it had tiny feet.
Dolly’s heart gave a fizzy little jump. She trotted after it before the wind could steal it away.
At last, Dolly caught the crane in her hooves. Inside one wing were faint pencil marks.
A sneeze of snow hit the paper. Pop! The crane opened into a wobbly, crinkly square.
The loudspeaker crackled overhead. Dolly hurried to smooth the paper flat and figure it out.
First try: a pointy hat.
Second try, by the warm ticket window: a lopsided boat.
Third try, under the big station clock: a flappy paper fish.
The fish wiggled in the draft as if it could swim. Dolly almost laughed.
Then Dolly looked down. The pencil lines matched the black-and-white tiles under her feet.
She laid the paper on the floor and tapped along the lines. Corner to corner. Fold to fold.
The train bell dinged. Dolly’s stomach twisted.
One last tuck—and the crane sprang back into shape.
Ping! A small silver ticket slipped from the crane’s belly onto the tile.
Dolly hurried to the conductor with the crane and the tiny ticket just as the train doors sighed open.
The conductor’s tired face softened into a surprised smile. “The missing keepsake,” he whispered.
Dolly felt warm and light inside as the conductor tucked the crane back into her scarf for the ride. The snowy station did not feel quite so sleepy anymore.
