Rigid Hedgehog, Four Hours, No Notes

The text went out at around eight-fifteen. I was trying to ask Simone something about the weaving class, specifically whether she knew if the third session used a different warp setup than the second, and I typed it fast, the way you do when you're still standing in the kitchen with a coffee that hasn't fully landed yet. Sent it. Didn't look twice.

She replied at twelve forty-seven. Four hours later. A completely normal, thoughtful response to the question, as if nothing was wrong. It was not until I went back to read the chain that I saw it: I had asked her, with apparent seriousness, whether the rigid hedgehog used a different warp setup. Autocorrect had intervened. Autocorrect had decided that what I meant was hedgehog. And Simone, Simone who has read this blog since before I knew she was reading it, Simone who names the frame before I do, Simone who noticed the two-buildings-later detail about the one-block run before I'd even written the post, Simone let it go. Four hours. Not a word.

The aftermath. The mug witnessed everything.

I stood at the windowsill for a while after that, which is apparently what I do when something is funny enough to need a moment to fully arrive. The cord was there. The card was there. The two prints were still leaning against the wall. Everything exactly where it was, and somewhere on Simone's phone a text about a rigid hedgehog sitting unanswered for four hours because she is exactly who she is.

Back to the windowsill, eventually. As always.

I asked her about it at Tuesday session. She said she thought maybe it was a weaving term she didn't know yet. I believe her completely, which somehow makes it worse.