During noon (12:00 PM) at Sister Merrow’s back washroom, the light from pale grey midday light shining on the fully erased slate boards cut through air heavy with cold cabbage broth, vinegar rags, dry chalk. The hollow ticking of the Courtesy Arch as the cleared board and the cold soup began. The Courtesy Bridge staging board was fully blank, stripped of all appointments, with Ada’s unfinished soup flask sitting alone on the bench. Every detail of courtesy bridge · void demanded that the crew treat Sister Merrow’s back washroom as an active building site where no physical strange flaw could be brushed aside.
Pella Rook took position in Sister Merrow’s back washroom for the cleared board and the cold soup, assessing the physical toll before lifting a single instrument. Her body felt hollow, drained of all driving force, her boots leaden. She walked across the empty floor. Ready in her grasp were her father’s brass measuring tongs, cold and unused in her pocket, practical trade gear selected specifically to meet the demands of courtesy bridge · void without dramatic display.
Pella walked to the timber workbench. She looked down at Ada’s stainless steel soup flask left behind during the escape. By applying her eyes and the heavy ticking brass clock during the cleared board and the cold soup, Pella Rook established zero working jobs leftover on the docket. The bustling trade hub had returned to a silent back kitchen. The cessation of all activity was the total collapse of the…
