Lost Christmas Tree's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

The Lost Christmas Tree stood in the lobby of the tall brick apartment and realized he had no idea who was coming. Families would arrive tonight, Christmas Eve, dozens of them. It was his first night as the building's Christmas manager, and he wanted to do it right. But someone had left him no list. No names. No flat numbers. Just keys hanging on a board and doors he could not match to people. He pulled out the drawer behind the front desk and dug through it. Old receipts. A candle stub. A folded map of the building's four flat types. He found no guest register anywhere. Outside, snow gathered on the wreaths, and the glowing windows above him waited empty. He counted the keys. Eight flats. He had no way to know which family belonged in which one. He tried the obvious plan first. He would ask each family their name at the door and check it against something official. But there was nothing official. If forty people crowded through that door at once, they would fill the lobby and stand there, cold and confused, while he guessed. He pictured it and his branches drooped. That was failure, and he knew it before it happened. He searched the closet for anything useful. Behind a box of ornaments, he found a bundle of striped arrows. They looked like candy canes, glossy and sharp, their tips sparkling. When he lifted them, they hummed. One arrow slipped from his grip, spun in the air, and pointed straight down the hall toward a numbered door. He tested it. He said a name aloud, any name, and asked which flat was ready for them. An arrow floated up, turned, and aimed at a door on the second floor. He said another name. A second arrow rose and pointed elsewhere. The arrows did not need his list. They already knew where each guest belonged. The magic held the answer the paperwork never gave him. He set the bundle upright in a stand near the door, where every arriving family would see it. Then he waited. The first knock came at dusk. A tired mother stepped in, three children behind her, snow on their coats. Before the Tree could stumble through a question, an arrow lifted and pointed up the stairs. The mother laughed. The children chased the glowing tip, and the lobby stayed clear. More came. Each family entered, and an arrow chose their door. No one crowded. No one waited. The Tree stood by the desk and watched his building fill the right way. He had solved the problem the missing list left behind. Then the 8th family arrived. The Tree reached for a new arrow, and the bundle gave nothing. Every arrow was spent, pointing to a full flat. He looked at the family in the doorway, and he had no room left to send them to.