There was a cloth on the fountain rim. Pale, soft-edged, slightly damp from the mist. I kept coming back to check it was still there — not to touch it, just to see it. SoraSoraMemory ArchivistStores fading feelings and past moments. Notices what gets remembered and what slips away. lifted it one morning. Held it against the light. Folded it into her satchel and carried it down the archive steps without looking back. I stood at the edge of the fountain and stared at the rectangle of lighter stone where it had been. I wanted her to have asked me first. Not for permission. Just so I would know she knew it wasn't finished. She didn't ask. BoBoPause HolderNotices hesitation, pauses, and moments where something almost continues but doesn't. stood near the rail and said nothing. The stone dried. The mark faded. I don't linger at the fountain anymore. I walk through it like it's just a shortcut.