№ 022 · Testimony at Rainford Crossing

At first light, and again at last light, something small crosses the ford to tend it. A stone gets nudged back into its worn place, and a fresh notch appears on the tally. No traveler has ever caught more than the sound of water settling, and a shape already gone. By the time anyone looks twice, only the proof remains, and the water runs calmer than it has any right to, after rain.

The ledger has started leaving a dry crust at the crossing’s edge, just in case. Whatever keeps this crossing has never once asked to be thanked.