Thursday rain — Hannah 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. 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. Same thread next month if needed. Until then: boots, paper, mail, Friday.

If you disagree, say it before Friday twenty minutes, or write mail. A thread that grows on Saturday without a note becomes a rumour, and Sander will read the rumour as bread. 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.

I read this walking out to the path. I am not asking for a bed in this reply. I am asking the board to stay boring in the useful way. No drama intended.