Lila came into her grandmother's kitchen in the morning. The sun was shining through the small kitchen window. There was bread and jam on the table. Lila opened a drawer to get a spoon. Suddenly, something whispered softly: "Ouch, watch out!" The wooden spoon moved like a fish. "Are you talking to me?" asked Lila, genuinely puzzled. "We're all talking," murmured the steam in the kettle. The tray rang quietly and she nodded her horn. "We've lost the Little Cup," the tray sighed. "Tea doesn't taste as good without it." "The breadbasket saw her," whispered the salt shaker from the shelf. The breadbasket clattered with crumbs and pretended to be very important. "I have a secret," he said and slid over to Lila. "First you have to pass a small test of courage." Lila swallowed her saliva but nodded. "Tap the tabletop three times, and listen." Lila tapped her finger: one, two, three. The flies, the clock and the radio fell silent in the kitchen. The lid of the breadbox twitched and swung open a little. A quiet clatter of porcelain came from inside. "Hello?" said Lila, peering into the dark gloom. Something answered her in a whisper, but completely alien.