"A xylophone is a child’s clatter," Mrs. Gable sniffed. "This is a storyteller. Be careful with it, Barnaby. It doesn't take requests."
The sign above the shop door was painted in peeling gold leaf: Antiquities & Other Curiosities . For Barnaby, it wasn't the curiosities that drew him in every Tuesday, but the dust. He liked the way it suspended the sunlight in the air, making the shop feel like a place frozen in time.
This time, the note rang clear and true.
Barnaby closed his eyes. The music shifted, swelling into a rhythmic pattern that mimicked a train on tracks. Chug-a-chug-a-chug. Then, a high, wailing trill—the train whistle.
He tried to play "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."