On a Monday morning, Zosia's kitchen smelled of toast and orange tea. Mum was humming in the next room and in the backyard someone was shaking the carpet so that the air said: boom, boom. The sun was coming through the curtain and drawing a check on the table like a soft blanket. Zosia sat in a chair with her legs pulled up to her chin. Next to her, Poppy, a white-furred cat, was curled up. He was moving his whiskers as if he was saying something very clever, but only in the language of purring. Suddenly, one speck of sunshine twitched and jumped to the edge of the table. It stopped for a moment, blinked and... formed into an arrow. The arrow glided softly across the tabletop, leaving behind dots like crumbs from a croissant. - 'Oh, you prankster,' Zosia whispered and touched the arrow with her finger. It was as warm as a tea cup. Poppy pawed at it, but the arrow gracefully slipped between his claws and sailed across the table towards the sideboard. The sideboard had always stood in the kitchen, wooden, with panes of glass that remembered the most beautiful dinners. Inside lived plates with blue dots, three cups with hares and a curious spoon, which always sounded the quietest. The arrow stopped just short of the cupboard handle and blinked three times: one, two, three. The clock on the wall seemed to respond to this. Its hands did a tiny dance: tick, tick... and stood on a dash that Zosia had not noticed before. - 'Strange,' she said in a half-hearted voice. - Mum, can you hear? - I'm humming - called out Mum from the other room. - I'm here! Zosia took a breath. It was good to know that Mum was humming and the world was ordinary. Only that the arrow twitched again and gently mussed the handle. Zosia opened the door. The cupboard smelled of glass after the rain and strawberry jam. The dotted plates sat quietly, the cups looked hare-brained and the spoon... the spoon had a shadow in the shape of wings, even though the sun was shining on the shelf from one side only. - You are the curious one - smiled Zosia. - Or are you the one who knows where the light leads? The spoon made a quiet, dinging sound, as if someone had touched an invisible bell. The arrow of light obediently climbed its handle and settled on the end, turning into a small glow like a skylight. Poppy climbed onto the bottom shelf and set his ears. From behind the plates, where the sideboard wall had been, something rustled. Then a light line appeared in the wood, thin as a hair. It grew into a circle the size of a button, and then even bigger. It made a gap, through which the smell of grass after the rain blew, even though outside the window there was only the city and the birds on the roof. - 'Hm,' said Zosia, feeling a tickle in her stomach. - 'I think that's the door for a very small wind. The clock said again: tick, tick, like encouragement. Mum was still humming. Everything was safe and close and yet different. Zosia slid the spoon with the shiny end towards the crack. The wood pulsed, as if someone on the other side had blown into the blowhole. For a moment she saw flickering dots in the middle, as if someone had strung beads in the night sky. - Knock... - she heard quietly. - Knock, knock... Poppy became motionless. His tail made like a question mark. The arrow on the spoon blinked once more, as if asking if Zosia was ready. Zosia lifted the spoon a little higher, put her ear to the cool wood and pressed her fingertip on the edge of the crack, which became soft as plasticine. The back wall of the sideboard could now be swung open, a little, a tiny bit.... At the same moment, something on the other side moved, flicked like a silver fish in a puddle, and with a quiet rustling noise began to slide out towards Zosia