Polly Asks the Way

Polly had a theory that maps were for tourists, and the theory lasted exactly twenty minutes. The streets of the neighborhood curved like they were drawn freehand, every corner had the same bakery smell, and the library refused to appear. On a corner stood an owl with a folded newspaper, reading standing up the way only owls can. "Excuse me, one question. I think I am lost."

The owl lowered the newspaper with enormous patience. "Where is the library? I have been going in circles." It was not far, the owl explained; the problem was the fountain. Everyone turned the wrong way at the fountain. "To the right or to the left at the fountain?" Left, always left, and then nothing but street until the square. "Straight ahead until the square, okay! That sounds easy."

It was easy, once someone said it out loud. The library appeared behind the square with its wide steps and its doors open, exactly where it had been all along. "Thank you very much! You have saved my afternoon." The owl waved the newspaper without looking up from the next page. Polly climbed the steps with a new theory: the shortest distance between two points is a good question.