I am writing this because the hall keeps a shorter version of friday notes — thin and true than the one I lived through. If you only heard it at the table after bread, you might think nothing happened. Something did.
Nothing here is a shop. Not the jars, not the apples, not the boats, not my time. Ask with your name on the day you mean it.
If this helped, you do not need to thank me. Put the thing back where the next person expects it.
Havenhold