You walk the quiet cabin like a person who has learned the instrument.

Damper: vowel on, vowel off. Porch corner: chew if Thistle is on shift; silence if Thistle has a better wall. Window: hoarfrost feathers, not a face. Radio: static that does not contain your name unless you are greedy.

You end at the table with the lamp turned down, not off. Darkness is allowed. Unknown is not the same as darkness. You have fewer unknowns. The ones left—whether Priya wants cocoa or tea, whether Ellis will admit the graph was cool, whether the drift has a last joke—are daytime-shaped.

You leave the damper seated, a last small mercy for sleep. Unknowns left are daytime-shaped: shovel jokes, toast rules, whether Ellis will claim the graph was Ellis’s idea. Those hauntings you can live with.