Twice the feathers. Twice the fuss.
The stylist turned the little tray upside down.
Nothing fell out.
The second duck waited. Perhaps something needed encouragement.
“Not even a small one?” she asked.
The stylist turned the tray back over and set it on the table.
Beside the mirror, the first duck lifted a flower-covered wing. The second followed it with her eyes.
“Something like that.”
“That,” said the stylist, “is where everything went.”
An Empty Tray
The first duck lowered her wing. A blue petal brushed the edge of the mirror, which was still lying sideways on its stand.
“I could lend you the yellow flower.”
The second duck looked at the enormous crown around it.
“Would the rest come too?”
The first duck considered this.
The stylist shook her head gently. She had clips, ribbon, and plenty of combs. None of them would produce another headful of flowers.
“I’m sorry. I can’t make you one today.”
The second duck’s wings settled against her sides.
The first duck stopped admiring her reflection.
Something Underneath
She looked around the table. A length of green ribbon trailed from a storage box beneath it, almost hidden by the pink cloth.
“What’s in there?”
The stylist crouched and drew out the box.
Inside lay the garlands she had packed away after decorating the shop window: fabric flowers, broad colored feathers, and white plumes folded in tissue.
The second duck leaned so far forward that the stylist held up a hand.
“Let me unfold them first.”
One garland opened across the table. Another remained in the box.
The first duck caught the loose ribbon in her bill and backed away slowly while the stylist separated the flowers. When the strip lay flat, she released it onto the chair beside her.
The second duck stepped closer.
“Today?”
The stylist held a purple bloom above her head.
“Today.”
“Hooray!”
The first duck joined in. Several plumes trembled before any dancing had begun.
Twice the Feathers
The second crown took shape while the first duck held each waiting spray steady against the chair. She watched the stylist’s fingers now, shifting the ribbon closer whenever they reached for it.
Blue feathers spread along the second duck’s wings. Pink and orange flowers filled the spaces between them.
When the last clip closed, the second duck turned toward her companion.
They raised their wings together.
For one lovely moment, they matched.
Then they tried turning.
A loop of ribbon on one wing caught a flower clip on the other. The first duck moved left. The second moved right. Both stopped.
“Are we dancing?” the second asked.
“We were.”
The stylist set down her comb and came over.
“Keep your wings there.”
A Little Room
She loosened the loop without disturbing either flower, then tucked the ribbon end beneath its clip.
“Try again. A little farther apart.”
The ducks each took a small step outward. This time their flowers passed without catching. They lifted their outer feet, tipped their crowns, and laughed as the white plumes swayed.
“Hooray!” they called together.
The stylist returned to the table. Behind her, two pairs of feet pattered across the floor.
“We’d still like to stay right beside each other,” the second duck said.
The stylist looked at the space their wings required.
“Then you can take turns dancing.”
“And if we both want to dance?”
She picked up her appointment book.
“I’ll have to put you down as one duck with four feet.”
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