Cabbage not stake — without a rumour

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.

I will not reply to every thank-you. I will notice if the kettle is on the cellar stair again.

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.

That is all I have.

Writing so Saturday does not become detective work.

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.

Same rule as last month. Still the rule.

I am not asking for a bed in this reply. I am asking the board to stay boring in the useful way.

See you Thursday if the weather agrees.

Writing so Saturday does not become detective work.

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

That is all I have.

Bulb off. Key on the nail. I checked.

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

No drama intended.

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.

That is all I have.

I read this walking out to the path.

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

No drama intended.