On Christmas Eve, fresh snow hugged the roofs of our block of flats. Lena stared at the sky, waiting for the first star. The clouds were as thick as a feather, nothing shone through them. Then she heard the soft sound of a bell, coming from the attic. The swings in the yard were silent, only the snow falling silently. "Did you hear that?" - asked her mother, stirring the borscht in the kitchen. "Maybe the neighbours are decorating the Christmas tree," she replied, without raising her eyes. On the radio, carols hummed like the sea enclosed in a jar. Lena touched her pocket, where her grandfather's brass key rested. "Use it only when the star is gone," - that's what Grandpa once said. Does it count if the star is not yet visible? The bell sounded a second time, higher, somewhere more impatient. The stairs leading up to the attic creaked like an old sleigh. It smelled of tangerines and dust, and glitter swirled in the air. On the last step, Lena noticed small marks as if from a hoofstroke. The door was cold and locked with a simple bolt. The key in her hand grew warm, as if breathing. "Hello?" - She whispered, gently pressing her ear to the wood. The light bulb above the door blinked three times, like an agreed signal. From the other side, someone whispered: "Let's hurry, time is running out!" Lena slipped the key in and turned it very slowly. The lock gave way and the slit immediately filled with a flicker. Inside, the outline of a sleigh appeared and something flashed silver. A frosty wind blew in, carrying the sound of bells and the smell of stars. Lena reached out and touched the cool metal of the shape....