Mujin's hand waited above the paper.
On the hundred and seventeenth day after temporary handover, Darae set a fresh sheet on her side of the public table. Opposite, the section of his ring drawing remained in its first shape. He worried that erasing it might fade neighbouring lines. She looked where he had invited her to look. She did not pick up his tool. The hand changing this paper would still be his.
“Where would you draw it afterwards?”
He wanted the right side wider. Perhaps try it on a separate blank sheet first, she suggested. It was no proposal to abandon the original. He checked his own spare paper and took one out. She did not need to push hers across. They had both brought things for their own hands to use.
He drew the wider ring, quickly at first and more slowly near its end. Darae offered no immediate score. He laid the two together and said the difference was difficult to see. There was a difference, but she needed to hear where he wanted to look. He laughed: he had left out the explanation. He wanted a little more empty space inside.
This was no flight-turning plan or certified orbit. Knowing his purpose, she looked again into the second ring. It felt roomier to her. The lines had not altered while he spoke; her attention had found the place he wanted to discuss. Did the first drawing have to be erased for the new one to remain? Both papers were his. He could keep both, she said.
He laughed again. He knew that. So did she; sometimes a person wanted a known answer from another mouth. It did not transfer the choice. Mujin decided to erase nothing today. Darae began a table edge on her own sheet. Had she decided what to draw? Not yet. He could already see a corner. The next line could still go elsewhere, she answered, and her hand moved towards a chair back.
The public table trembled when another user shifted an arm. Darae held her sheet and waited. Mujin brought his tools farther from the edge. Nobody told the neighbour to make the world quiet for their drawings. They had arranged the use of this little place for a little time, rather than reserved all the stillness around it.
Her fingers felt stiff when she resumed. A whole shift's desire to do something correctly had followed her into the drawing. She put the tool down and opened her hand. Resting? Mujin asked. Yes. He wanted to move his shoulders too. They checked their papers' protection, then pushed their chairs back briefly. The picture could survive a pause without being diagnosed as abandoned.
Drinks came from the permitted separate place. Together they chose to keep open cups away from the paper table. Darae still distrusted her elbow. Mujin's elbow was under independent suspicion too. They drank. Here was a real interval for water, rather than a report about everything that had not been spilled.
Through a small window, lights in another compartment came back into view. No great bright Earth edge. Darae admitted she might have imagined a finer view after arranging the place. Mujin had imagined a more comfortable chair. Was it uncomfortable now? He wanted a little more support behind his back. They could look for that when choosing another place.
At another, Darae's mind moved ahead. Today's drawing was still on the table. She returned her cup to its recovery position and asked whether they should go back. Their things had been left within the agreed protection and their own care. They did not return as though an unseen stranger had been appointed to guard every pencil while they drank.
Her paper now held a chair, a table edge and an empty round place. A cup had almost gone there. She had wondered whether to draw it on a table where they had not actually put a drink.
“Keeping an office record in the picture too?” Mujin asked.
She laughed longer than she expected.
“Today I don't have to.”
She could put an absent cup in her own drawing. Memory and wishes could mix when she was not submitting it as evidence of a work event. She changed the round place into a small empty plate. Not an especially well-drawn one. Still, something she had chosen to put there now.
What would be eaten from it? She did not know. They could choose this evening, Mujin suggested. The paper plate or an actual meal? An actual meal. Within his remaining time and rest, he could sit somewhere nearby. Darae wanted to go with him. The little plate had acquired a conversation; it need not become a prediction of what the kitchen would serve.
They did not rush to make their drawings impressive before leaving. They drew as much more as they wanted within the remaining interval. He added a short private distinction beneath the second ring, rather than a date. She made one chair leg slightly long and left it. For once she liked a place she had not corrected. It could go into her bag without first receiving the name Finished.
They vacated the table at the agreed time. Borrowed public tools went back; their own papers went into their own protection. Darae took neither of his originals. He asked for none of hers. Seeing a thing together and possessing it were separate facts. She checked her own place once, closed her bag and followed him towards food.
The passage was busy. They carried their bags without first arranging another handhold. At a narrow part they walked in line, then came beside one another. No hand held yet today did not mean they had become farther apart. Mujin slowed to her pace. She did not claim she could walk faster to make the adjustment unnecessary. They simply walked at that speed.
The free dining seats were not by a window. Rather than wait, they chose comfortable chairs inside. Their drawings stayed in their bags. When the actual plate arrived, Darae said it was much more handsome than hers. It had the advantage of being made for use, he replied. Her drawn plate was good to look at too, she insisted. He did not know that yet.
Why not? He had been thinking about what food might go there, rather than examining its shape. She liked that answer. It told her what he had actually looked at more clearly than praise for every line would have. She described the part of her picture she liked. He could ask again if he wanted to see it another time. Today did not have to include another showing.
They shared only what suited them, beginning with food that was not too hot. There was no obligation to choose matching dishes. His portion had a stronger scent than expected; would he like to exchange a small taste? Yes, if she wanted. Nearer plates had not automatically pooled everything left on them. The actual little exchange was enough.
Darae said that trying to speak precisely sometimes made her throat stiff when they met. Did she think she had to answer well, like at work? Perhaps she disliked making another person wait because she had said something wrong. Mujin thought, then said he could hear I don't know yet too. She did not turn that answer into a promise to remove every future tension.
“What about today?” he asked.
“I like being here with you. I want to meet again.”
Those two things she knew. He felt the same. There was no long explanation afterwards. Other diners went on with their own conversations; a small plate stood between the two of them. Her present feeling could be clear without becoming a large declaration the room would have to stop and hear.
They paid their agreed separate shares, then went onto the public way. On a quieter, wider stretch, Mujin asked whether she wanted to hold hands briefly. She did. First they matched comfortable hands with the bags they were carrying, moving aside enough not to make passing people adopt their pace. Their choice had room around it.
“A day with drawings can still have a walk,” he said.
“Heavier bag. We can make it shorter.”
He laughed. They did walk only a little. No far endpoint or best star-viewing place had to certify the day. Each could say when it was time to return and rest. Darae regretted releasing his hand. She did not put that regret ahead of another person's fatigue. The part after letting go remained part of being together.
At the junction she told him again that she had liked the ring's empty space. He was glad he had brought the first drawing too. They fixed no next drawing date. A day with no pictures would be good as well, she said. Lighter hands, he answered. A light bag was different from an empty day, she began, then laughed and decided to stop explaining.
Actual arrival messages passed that evening. Darae took out her own paper. The chair leg stayed long; the plate stayed crooked. She corrected neither. No face or feeling drawn on the page meant no missing evidence. It was a different kind of paper from the records for next shift. She put her bag in order and rested.
At the following shift, on day one hundred and eighteen, Sodam indicated an ordinary intake container. A small lidded bowl had been left at a public eating place in the ring. They had not established whether it was empty or permitted to be opened. Its outer label looked as though it might have come from another object. Darae left yesterday's plate drawing at home. This was an actual bowl. The first question was what its name tag named.