---
The hours made a shape. A ladder with rungs that were too close together. He climbed it with his breath and his counting and the nail head in the beam. When his breath wanted to run, he put it behind his teeth and let it walk. When the metronome tick made him want to throw the chair, he put the chair in his mind and sat down again on it. When the cold ate down his neck he put the cold in a small box that had a lid.
He looked at the chalk ring without moving his eyes. The chalk did not shine. It sat dull under the chair legs. He saw where Rusk had fixed the nick near the back leg. He saw one grain of salt sitting half on the chalk and half on the board. He saw what water would do to that grain if there was water again.
[System: forty-one percent. Secondary nodes are responsive. Fizz threshold not met.]
