In the living room there was a funny, curious feeling in the air. Outside, the sky was light gray, and on the roof a soft rain was falling, going tick, tick, tick, like someone knocking with a tiny little finger. Ziggy, Lily, Skye and Dash were sitting on the rug, playing their favorite game that afternoon: "Guess what's in the box.".

They had a cardboard box with a hole on top. Inside they put mystery things: an apple, a pinecone, a sock, a little piece of chocolate. Then, one by one, each child sniffed through the hole and tried to guess.

"It's a mint candy!" said Lily, laughing.

"No, it's a pinecone!" shouted Ziggy.

Skye sniffed quietly and smiled. "I think it's a sock, but I won't say it, or Dash will get cross."

Dash burst out laughing, then turned serious and said a sentence that just popped into his head: "Secrets are like warm cookies. They should be found out slowly."

His friends looked at him. It really was a beautiful sentence. But they didn't have time to ask where it came from, because just then, from the kitchen door, a familiar sound arrived.

CHUFFFF CHUFFFF.

It was Toby the Magic Train! The children jumped to their feet, eyes as big as marbles. Toby was sparkling with dew, because he came from outside, and from his smokestack puffed little colored clouds.

"Good morning, children, climb inside,
today we'll take a little ride.
A warm sweet smell is waiting near,
a tiny heart that needs us here."

The children clapped their hands. "Let's go!"

They climbed into the wagon, sat close together, and Toby set off, gentle as a lullaby that walks.

After a little while, the train stopped. In front of them was a small wooden door with words on it, in chubby letters: "The Warm Good Morning Bakery."

Dash pushed the door. DIIIING, went the little bell.

Inside, everything was the color of bread crust. The walls looked golden. The windows were foggy with steam, as if someone had breathed on them. On the shelves sat round loaves of bread, side by side, like sleeping kittens. And over everything, a warm scent of bread and chamomile.

On the windowsill, in a row like shy children, sat seven little clay pots. Inside the pots were flowers, but they all had their heads down, leaves drooping, as if they didn't feel like waking up.

Behind the counter stood a tall baker, with a white apron and a smudge of flour on his nose. His name was Bartolo. His eyes looked a little sad.

"Good morning, children," he said, wiping his hands. "Welcome to my bakery. But today is a strange morning."

"Why?" asked Dash.

"Because my flowers don't want to bloom. And then she arrived, but she doesn't speak. I can't hear her."

Bartolo pointed to a high shelf. Up there, between a cookie jar and a basket of pears, sat a tiny alarm clock. She was shiny, just out of her box, with a round face and two thin hands. (Hands are the little arrows that turn on a clock to tell the time.) On her face she had two sweet little eyes and a round little mouth.

"Her name is Tickina," said Bartolo, sighing. "She should wake me in the morning, but she rings so softly that I don't hear her, and I fall back asleep. And so the bread gets baked late. And the customers don't come. And the flowers stay just like this."

Dash walked up to the shelf and stood on his tiptoes. The alarm clock, seeing him coming, gave a little jump of surprise, as if her second hand was tickling her.

"Hello Tickina," said Dash, smiling.

"He... hello," answered the clock, in a whisper.

Dash looked at her closely. And under her face, between the little gears, he saw something very strange: a tiny golden hand, hidden away. It glowed with a gentle light.

"What do you have there?" asked Dash, curious.

Tickina, terrified, quickly covered her face with her little hand-arrows, like a child hiding behind her hands.

"Don't look at it! It's a secret!"

Lily stepped forward, her blue eyes wide open. "What is a golden hand? I've never seen one. Clock hands aren't gold, they're black or gray."

Tickina stayed quiet for a moment. Then, hearing Lily's sweet voice, she lowered her little hands a tiny bit. She whispered, "My golden hand is special. It only lights up when I say something true and kind. But I never speak loud enough... and so it always stays off."

The children looked at each other. That was a magical thing, and very beautiful.

"Maybe," said Skye, with her calm voice, "you could say something true right now, and we'll see what happens."

Tickina lowered her head. "I can't. I'm new. I came here three days ago. I don't know anyone. I feel like... like those flowers on the windowsill."

Dash turned toward the windowsill. The flowers, truly, looked sadder than before.

"Tickina," whispered Dash, "do you want to tell me a secret? Why don't the flowers bloom? You know, don't you?"

Tickina nodded slowly. Then she whispered, very close to Dash's ear, "They feel lonely. No one has ever talked to them. No one has ever said hello. That's why they don't wake up."

Dash spun around toward his friends, his eyes shining. "Listen! Tickina says we have to talk to the flowers! They feel lonely!"

Ziggy did a little hop. "That's easy! Let's go!"

All together they ran to the windowsill. Ziggy shouted, "Hello flowers, wake up!"

Lily said, "Pretty ones, you have to bloom!"

Skye said, "Hi, hi everyone!"

Dash said, "Come on, it's spring!"

The voices piled on top of each other, like a big mess. And the flowers, instead of waking up... closed up even more. Their leaves drooped, their petals tightened. They looked scared.

There was a strange silence. Bartolo scratched his head. Ziggy opened his mouth, but said nothing. Lily put her hands on her hips and pouted. Dash felt a little sick in his tummy.

"It's not working," said Skye, in a sweet voice. Then she added, thinking, "Maybe... we were too many, all at once. Maybe the flowers need to hear it from someone who knows how to speak softly."

All together, at the same time, they turned toward the shelf.

Tickina understood right away. She covered her face with her little hand-arrows and started to shake. Her second hand wobbled at her feet.

"I... I can't. I'm scared. I can't do it. I'm not good."

No one said anything. Bartolo lowered his eyes. Ziggy looked at Lily. Lily looked at Skye. Skye looked at Dash.

And Dash, without saying a word, did the only thing that came to his mind.

He smiled at her.

Not a clever smile. Not a smile that asks for something. A wide, sweet smile, that didn't want anything. Just a smile, like a gift placed quietly.

And in that moment, under Tickina's face, something magical happened. The tiny golden hand, which had been off her whole life, lit up. A tiny golden glow began to pulse slowly, like a little heart waking up.

Tickina looked at her chest. She looked again. Then she looked at Dash.

And something, deep inside her, melted.

She moved her little hands away from her face. She took two little ticking steps toward the windowsill. She stopped in front of the flowers. She breathed deeply, smelling of chamomile and powdered sugar.

And then, with her whispered little voice, she chimed. Ting... ting... ting... It was a sweet, thin chime, like a rain of tiny water drops.

Then she said, "Dear flowers. You are like me. You are new. I am new too. But I see you. And I love you."

There was a moment of silence.

Then the first flower, the smallest one, lifted its head. It opened one petal. Then another. And another still.

Then the second flower did the same. And the third. And the fourth. One by one, all seven flowers woke up, stood up tall, and bloomed. They were yellow, pink, blue, purple. They looked like they were smiling.

Bartolo put his hands over his mouth. His eyes were watery. "Oh," was all he said. "Oh, oh."

Lily clapped. Ziggy did a little hop. Skye smiled sweetly.

And in that moment, outside the window, another wonder happened. The gentle rain stopped. The clouds opened. And in the sky, above the roof of the bakery, ribbons of light appeared: green, purple, gold, dancing like silk cloths blown by the wind.

"What is it?" asked Ziggy, with his nose pressed to the glass.

"It's an aurora," whispered Skye. "An aurora is when the sky dresses up in colored lights. It only happens a few times. It's so beautiful."

Tickina, on the shelf, looked at the sky. Her golden hand glowed brighter than before. Bartolo picked her up gently and placed her on the shelf next to the cookie jar, where the scent of chamomile lived.

"From today you stay here," said Bartolo, "next to the jar you love. And you'll wake me with your sweet chime. I will learn to listen to you."

Tickina blushed a little, but she didn't cover her face anymore. She smiled.

In that moment, outside, the familiar sound was heard. CHUFFFF CHUFFFF. It was Toby, coming back to pick up the children.

They climbed into the wagon, waving goodbye to Tickina with their hands. And Tickina, from her new spot, whispered, "Thank you."

Toby set off slowly, under the sky painted with colored ribbons. Then he said, with his rhythmic voice:

"A little smile, given with love,
lights up a heart like stars above.
A smile for someone sad and small
can be the sweetest gift of all."

The children held hands. Dash closed his eyes, and inside his tummy he felt a sweet warmth, as if he too had a little golden hand glowing.

When they got home, outside the rain was over. And in the living room, on the rug, the "Guess what's inside" game box was still there.

But no one felt like playing. They just wanted to stay quiet, a little longer, listening to the silence. Because some secrets, truly, are like warm cookies. They should be found out slowly.