Chapter 133. Aftermath: A Municipal Grammar

What remained were the bills and the clauses and the retaliations people try when mercy stops being entertaining. Quiet Transfer at the ferry attempted one last theft by sending a narrow tube of polite air into the shelf Hesta had set at the hall; the spoon intervened with a young wrist and a practiced insult. At the yard a dome tried to purr; Cassandra taught it to conjugate ‘shame’ in a mood that made concrete grin. At the river post two bowls muttered; Rina assigned them to toddler duty for a week where they would hum lullabies instead of policy. Lior walked one last line between kiosk and mile-mark and found the rumor that said the null could be franchised; he tied it in a knot that looks like laughter and travels like truth.

In the square, the bench did the simplest work a bench can do: it remembered how to carry one life into noon without asking to be evaluated. The vessel slept, woke, slept; the null kept its mouth cool and steady under the seat; the shelf warmed under