You shake your head and step away from the counter. The spoon stays behind—resting in its chilly place of honour.

The Keeper shrugs. “Fair enough,” he says. “Not everyone’s called to carry the weight of mashed potato history.”

You head back into the cold, your pack a little lighter—but your spirit just as ready.

You may not have the spoon… but you’ve still got heart. And that’s more than enough to make it to the potluck.