The ornaments came down from the attic in the order they had been hung: star, bell, red apple, small white house. The last one was not ours. It had a brass number on its door, though the house had only one room. Mum said to put it back in the box. Dad said the box had been empty when he carried it upstairs.
At midnight, a light appeared behind the ornament's paper window. From the kitchen, we heard someone knocking at our front door.
No one went to answer. The little white house rocked gently on its branch, as if a person inside had opened the door and stepped out.
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