10pm. Slow stop. Chores, minimal, a cold shower. A book and pen, just in case. Access to the full story somehow not granted, not working at all today. Watching the cat observe the invisible, because evenings are what they are and after all someone's just got to do. Conclusions, two lines in that mental log. Horns of a distant train. A moth and a single star, to complete things. Have a kind night wherever you are.)