Mist on the canal — Linnea wrote it down

This is not a speech and not a vote. It is the shape of an evening when the canal looked like wet stone and everyone pretended they had not been standing in the doorway listening. The rule did not change because someone was tired of explaining it. It changed once, in March, and we are not resetting that world because a new bed finds the ditch inconvenient. I will not reply to every thank-you. I will notice if the kettle is on the cellar stair again.

I counted because Lena counts. I tied back because Joost ties. I turned the bulb off because Anouk should not have to say it a fifth time in one month. I will not reply to every thank-you. I will notice if the kettle is on the cellar stair again.

Someone will ask again in a week. The answer will have the same shape: read the paper, read the board, write two lines if you need a bed, and do not invent a meeting that was only rain.

If it is not in Sara's note, it was on the step. I was not there for the whole evening, but I was there for the part where someone moved the map and Elise made the face she makes when the map is not folded. That is enough context for me. Mail if it is a bed question.