Six poses. One kiss. Everyone claims it.
The stylist’s tea had gone cold beside the mirror.
She had meant to drink it after the fourth duck. Then the fifth had arrived with very definite ideas about purple. The sixth had waited politely until there was room to explain that she liked all the colors.
Now six enormous crowns filled the shop, and the stylist was holding her comb halfway to the last white plume.
She lowered it to the table.
“One moment.”
Three More Crowns
The garlands from the storage box had supplied three more sets of flowers and feathers. Bits of ribbon lay beside the chair, and loose leaves had gathered beneath the table.
The stylist rubbed her wrist.
The sixth duck kept her head still. Beside her, the first duck watched a waiting spray slide toward the table’s edge and caught it with her wing.
“Shall I keep this here?”
“Yes, please.”
The second moved a ribbon clear of the clips. The third held the sixth duck’s wing steady while the stylist fastened the last flowers. The fourth and fifth waited without turning their heads to inspect each new addition.
For the first time all afternoon, the stylist finished a crown without reaching across the table to rescue something.
A Seat for Someone Else
The sixth duck took one step back and spread her finished wings.
The stylist smiled. Then she rested both hands on the table.
The third duck looked at the chair, which was still holding a pile of decorations.
She lifted a light spray in her bill and carried it to the open box. The others cleared the remaining pieces while the choreographer moved the chair beside the mirror.
The first duck nudged the stylist’s slipper with her bill, then looked at the seat.
The stylist sat.
A long breath escaped her. She flexed her fingers in her lap.
“Thank you.”
Six crowns dipped toward her.
“Careful,” said the choreographer. “You’ll all disappear into your flowers.”
Six Poses
The ducks tried forming a row in front of the mirror.
The fifth could see one eye. The fourth could see somebody else’s blue feathers. The sixth rose onto her toes and mostly saw more purple.
The choreographer walked along the line.
“Three behind. Three in front.”
The first three stayed standing. The newcomers sat on the pink floor, each with room to spread her decorated wings. Above them, three crowns appeared clearly between the lower ones.
The third duck checked that the sixth could see.
She could.
They tried six different poses: a tilted head, an open wing, a lifted foot, a wave of feathers.
From her chair, the stylist watched the sixth duck settle in the middle of the front row. She caught the stylist’s eye, raised a wing toward her bill, and winked.
“Mwah!”
One Kiss
“That was for me,” said the fourth duck.
“I was directly behind her,” said the second.
The fifth tilted her crown. “She looked this way.”
The first pointed out that she had supplied the flowers. The third pointed out that she had held the wing.
The sixth looked from one claimant to another, her own wing still beside her bill.
The stylist leaned back in the chair.
“Well,” she said, “everyone who received that kiss can help sweep up.”
The room grew quiet enough to hear a ribbon slide off the table.
The fourth duck looked toward the stylist. So did the fifth.
“Actually,” said the second, “I think it was meant for you.”
Five crowns nodded.
“How lovely,” said the stylist. “You can all sweep on my behalf.”
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