Small jetty — thin and true

I am not Marek and I am not Lena. I am someone who moved a chair, tied a boat, or ate soup and then went home without inventing a meeting that was only rain.

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.

I tied it back. Same cleat I found.

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

No drama intended.

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.

That is all I have.

Agreed. I will not be interesting about it.

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

See you Thursday if the weather agrees.