Kael
I tapped the cup twice.
The first sound was dull. The second was sharper because I had moved it nearer the edge of the desk.
Neither was the sound I wanted.
I knew that without having the original left to compare them against.
Morning light reached the clean cover beside my hand. I had opened it to the note from the kitchen memory, then stopped before taking out the drawing.
School recording. Two taps on the mug. Spoon under the cupboard. She wanted the last laugh left in.
I remembered writing the words.
I remembered why.
The words had been a precaution when I wrote them. I had wanted something outside my head which said what mattered before another use of Void Step made that decision for me.
Now the note was doing the work I had asked of it, and I disliked looking at it.
Two taps. I could count them from the sentence. I could describe which came first and where the mug had touched.
Reading the description did not produce the sound.
