13:00 · the hot part
Mendy patches the nine lanterns that came up out of the ditch split at the seams, through the hottest hour, with Oopsy handing things over and gradually becoming less terrible. Nine bright crooked patches, one off a tea towel. Mopsy comes and sits for a while and says nothing.
3 fluffs tell this minute. None of them saw the same one.
So I sat in the shade through the hottest hour of the day and stitched paper and cloth over nine split seams, while the whole land ran about outside in the heat.
Oopsy sat alongside handing me things and gradually becoming less terrible, which is most of what that hour was actually for.
"That one's crooked," Oopsy said, after a while.
"Yes."
I sat with Mendy in the shade for a bit around one o'clock, while the nine split lanterns were being patched, and I said almost nothing and nobody minded.
So I sat in the shade through the hottest hour of the day handing Mendy scraps and thread and wax, and gradually stopped being terrible.
"That one's crooked," I said, after a while.
"Yes."
"Doesn't it bother you?"
