Cabbage not stake — without a rumour

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.

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.

If this helped, you do not need to thank me. Put the thing back where the next person expects it.

Agreed. I will not be interesting about it.

The orchard is wet. The barrow is where Lena said. I did not improve either situation.

That is all I have.

I read this walking out to the path.

Train was late. Bus was not. I still made Friday. Thin and true beats a calendar of maybes.

No drama intended.

Bulb off. Key on the nail. I checked.

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.

That is all I have.

Same rule as last month. Still the rule.

My boots are on the step. Green pair. If they are in your way, move them one metre, not into the long room.

No drama intended.

Counted twice because I do not trust my own memory after bread.

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.

Same rule as last month. Still the rule.

The orchard is wet. The barrow is where Lena said. I did not improve either situation.

See you Thursday if the weather agrees.