Inside the snow globe on my father's desk, there was a penguin wearing a red-and-white-stripped scarf. When I was little my father would pull me into his lap and reach for the snow globe. He would turn it over, letting all the snow collect on the top, the quickly invert it. The penguin was alone in there, I thought, and I worried for him. When I told my father this, he said, " don't worry, Susie; he has a nice life. He's trapped in a perfect world."