Everything in Its Place

Except Him. He’s in the Forbidden Hallway.

The spoons were having a funeral.

It was for Gregory—the slightly bent pewter one Orrin had used to scrape, scoop, and stir wax when fixing the puddled candles two nights ago.

“I told him to hide,” muttered Soup Spoon. “Told him to just yank the knife on top of him. We’ve got too many of these anyway.”

Butter Knife side-eyed it, but said nothing. Manners…