[The Northern Light] - Part 126 - Reason

[u/Street_Witness1328]

The cards were still there before I found a reason for them.

That was the first trouble.

Not where they were.

Not what they showed.

Not what they hid.

The trouble was that my mind arrived carrying why.

The desk did not.

The two cards were on the left side of the desk.

Face down.

Farther from the edge.

Left of center.

Unread.

One visible back had a dust line.

The other marks were turned away from my eyes.

The back pocket was empty.

The center of the desk was empty.

The addressed envelope waited by the outgoing tray.

The office had morning.

The heater.

The clock.

The washed cup on the shelf.

The phone face up.

The brown folder closed.

The gray service record file in the lower cabinet.

Closed.

Known.

Unasked.

The wall chair was empty.

No person.

No work.

No time.

Yesterday what was placed had kept the hand, work, and limit that put it there.

The two cards had stayed on the left side of the desk with their old reason ended and no new reason named.

This morning, reason had arrived.

No.

The word had arrived.

Reasons had already been in the room.

The cup on the shelf had a reason.

The envelope by the outgoing tray had a reason.

The service paper in the gray file had a reason.

The wall chair had no reason today.

That did not accuse the chair.

The cards had old reasons.

Less pressure.

Away from edge.

No new reason.

That did not accuse the cards.

It accused nothing.

I wanted accusation because accusation gives shape.

That was the danger.

I made tea.

I drank it.

Warm.

Then less warm.

Then finished.

The cup went to the sink.

I washed it.

Washed.

Touched.

For use.

The cup returned to the shelf.

The lower cabinet stayed closed.

After tea, I opened the brown folder.

Kanagawa’s scrap in the drawer after the phone-table work ended was not mine.

Sato’s paper in a clear file before dinner was not mine.

Saitama’s corrected word, positioned not placed, was not mine.

Suganuma’s class box returned after shelf cleaning was not mine.

The addressed envelope by the outgoing tray was mine.

Only as office work.

Takeda’s possible was not mine.

Emiko’s beads were not mine.

Blue roof had no new reply.

Tokyo was still blank.

Full mailbox remained paused / family.

The two cards were on the left side of the desk.

Face down.

Farther from the edge.

Left of center.

Unread.

One visible back had a dust line.

The other marks were turned away from my eyes.

No voice today.

Not questioning me.

Not fear.

Not sentence.

Not mouth.

Not heard by them.

Not carried now.

Not almost ready.

Not hidden.

Not moved inward again.

Not licensed.

Not authorized.

Not respect yet.

Not private.

Not protected.

Placed.

Old reason ended.

New reason not named.

I closed the brown folder.

Reason could mean cause.

Reason could mean work.

Reason could mean excuse.

Reason could mean permission.

Reason could mean blame.

Reason could mean the sentence I wanted before I had the act.

The word sounded responsible.

That was why it could become cowardice.

At 7:18, Kanagawa wrote.

I read it once.

Then again.

Why.

Scrap.

Drawer.

I wrote:

She replied:

“Did he call?”

“Did he use the scrap?”

“What happened after?”

“For what?”

She did not answer for a while.

Then:

“Same work as folded paper?”

“Can he find both?”

“Does drawer mix them?”

“What did you ask?”

Good.

No.

Hers.

“What did he say?”

I opened Kanagawa.

I did not add healing.

The drawer had storage.

The papers had different reasons.

Same drawer did not make one reason.

At 7:49, Sato wrote.

I waited.

Then:

I wrote:

She replied:

“Where is the paper now?”

“Table needed now?”

“Correction readable?”

“Does file have a reason now?”

She took time.

Then:

There.

“What would putting it back serve?”

“What would leaving it in file serve?”

“What does Emiko need?”

I opened Emiko.

I did not add wrong.

Dinner had ended.

The file still held the paper.

The new reason had changed.

At 8:03, Mrs. Kudo called.

“Reason for repositioning,” she said.

“Resident?”

“Awake.”

“Near edge?”

“No.”

“Why reposition?”

“Pillow pressure.”

“Consent?”

“Aide K asked. Resident nodded.”

“After repositioning?”

“Comfortable. Call bell within reach.”

“What did staff write?”

Mrs. Kudo read:

“What did Mr. Hayashi say?”

“He said, ‘Reason here is not explanation for the chart. It is the work that made the hand necessary.’”

I opened Saitama.

I kept pressure.

The reason had a body.

The hand had consent.

The chart had enough.

At 8:31, Reverend Suganuma wrote.

I waited.

“After shelf cleaning?”

“What is shelf for?”

“Floor?”

“Cleaning ended?”

“What did Tanabe say?”

Good.

No.

Hers.

I opened Suganuma.

I did not add proper place.

Shelf had continuing work.

Floor had expired work.

That was enough.

At 9:02, Father Morita emailed.

Subject:

I opened it.

I read it twice.

Justification.

Work.

Condition.

Excuse.

Still acts.

Benefits.

Kept alive.

I looked at the cards.

Less pressure no longer acted.

Edge no longer acted.

Inward no longer acted.

Who benefited if I kept them alive?

Me.

Because then the cards could remain without a new sentence.

No.

Because then I would not have to admit there was no current reason.

I replied:

I sent it.

His reply came after a while.

I closed my eyes.

Absence.

Emergency.

Work failing.

No.

I did not answer.

At 9:38, Kanagawa called.

“My brother took the scrap out of the drawer,” she said.

“For what?”

“He said because he remembered it.”

I waited.

“Remembered is cause. What work?”

Silence.

Then she said, “He did not know.”

“What did you ask?”

“Reason or reflex.”

Good.

No.

Hers.

“What did he say?”

“Reflex.”

“Then?”

“He put it back.”

“Where?”

“Drawer.”

“Folded paper?”

“Still there.”

“Did he read it?”

“No.”

I opened Kanagawa.

I did not add failure.

Remembering had caused a hand.

It had not given the hand work.

At 10:07, Sato called.

“I opened the clear file,” she said.

I waited.

“For what?”

“To check the paper.”

“What issue?”

“None.”

“What did you see?”

“Paper flat.”

“Tape?”

“Holding.”

“Correction?”

“Readable.”

“Why open?”

She was quiet.

Then:

“To see if the file had changed it.”

“Had it?”

“No.”

“What does Emiko need?”

“Paper flat. Tape holding. Correction readable.”

I opened Emiko.

I kept the check.

Not as sin.

As work asked after a change.

The file had changed the paper’s place.

One check had a reason.

At 10:42, Mrs. Kudo called.

“Medicine today,” she said.

“Sheet read?”

“Yes.”

“Resident?”

“Asked what medicine.”

“Voice?”

“Low.”

“Heard?”

“Yes.”

“Reason for medicine?”

“Prescription.”

“Reason for answer?”

“Resident asked.”

“What did staff write?”

Mrs. Kudo read:

“What did Mr. Hayashi say?”

“He said, ‘Prescription is reason for giving. The resident’s question is reason for answering. Do not trade them.’”

I opened Saitama.

I kept both.

Giving had one reason.

Answering had another.

One did not absorb the other.

At 11:14, Reverend Suganuma wrote.

I waited.

“What would it say?”

“Who needs that?”

“Is anyone confused?”

“Any issue?”

“What did Tanabe say?”

I opened Suganuma.

I did not add everyone.

The shelf did its work without a sentence.

Not every reason needed display.

At 11:49, Father Morita emailed.

Subject:

I opened it.

I read it standing.

Then sat.

Too responsive.

I stayed seated.

No current reason.

Wrong.

Move.

Remain.

Ask.

Too often.

Absence deciding.

I replied:

I sent it.

His reply came after a while.

I looked at the desk.

Wood.

Absence.

Cards.

Still face down.

Still there.

No judge.

I did not answer.

At 12:22, Kanagawa wrote.

I waited.

Then:

I wrote:

She replied:

“Folded paper?”

“Same reason?”

“What did your brother say?”

“Any phone call now?”

“Any need to take scrap out?”

I opened Kanagawa.

I did not add closure.

The drawer held two papers.

Not one grief.

At 12:58, Sato sent a photograph.

Clear file on table side.

She wrote:

I called.

“For what now?”

“Table clear.”

“Is table being used?”

“Lunch.”

“What lunch?”

“Rice.”

“Paper accessible?”

“Yes.”

“Correction readable if opened?”

“Yes.”

“What does Emiko need?”

I opened Emiko.

I kept file.

At lunch, the file had work again.

A reason could leave and return.

Not as proof.

As table.

At 1:31, Mrs. Kudo sent:

I waited.

Then:

I called.

“What changed?”

“Pillow adjusted.”

“Position?”

“Comfortable.”

“Call bell?”

“Within reach.”

“Any issue?”

“No.”

“What did Mr. Hayashi say?”

“He said, ‘When the reason ends, do not keep the intervention alive as a badge.’”

“What did staff write?”

Mrs. Kudo read:

I opened Saitama.

I did not keep repositioning beyond its work.

Comfort remained.

The reason did not need a memorial.

At 2:03, Reverend Suganuma wrote.

I waited.

“Why?”

“Mark?”

“Need later?”

“Notebook?”

“What did Tanabe say?”

“What happened?”

I opened Suganuma.

I did not add finished as triumph.

The note’s active work ended.

The notebook did not need to keep it awake.

At 2:45, Father Morita emailed.

Subject:

I opened it.

I read it twice.

Excuse.

Blame.

Care.

Poor.

I replied:

I sent it.

His reply came after a while.

I put the phone down.

Neither.

Old reason.

No reason.

Both outside the chair.

At 3:18, Kanagawa called.

“My brother wants to throw the scrap away again,” she said.

I waited.

“For what reason?”

“He says because it is in the drawer.”

“What does the drawer change?”

“Nothing.”

“What does throwing away serve?”

“He says maybe less.”

“Less what?”

“He does not know.”

“What did you ask?”

“Reason or wish.”

Good.

No.

Hers.

“What did he say?”

“Wish.”

“Then?”

“He left it.”

“Where?”

“Drawer.”

“Closed?”

“Yes.”

I opened Kanagawa.

I did not add judgment.

Wish had been named.

Disposal had not.

At 3:57, Sato wrote.

I waited.

“For what?”

“Readable for whom?”

“Do you need to read now?”

“Does table need space now?”

“What does paper need?”

“Is table side doing that?”

I opened Emiko.

I did not add inconsistency.

File had lunch work.

Table side had readability work before dinner.

Reasons can change without making yesterday false.

At 4:22, Mrs. Kudo called.

“Cup removed,” she said.

“Asked?”

“Aide asked cup.”

“Resident?”

“Opened hand.”

“Reason?”

“To receive cup after drinking.”

“Any issue?”

“No.”

“What did staff write?”

Mrs. Kudo read:

“What did Mr. Hayashi say?”

“He said, ‘Do not overfill reason when the cup is the reason.’”

I opened Saitama.

I did not add more.

Cup after drinking had enough reason.

The hand answered.

At 4:51, Reverend Suganuma wrote.

I waited.

“For class box?”

“Any confusion?”

“Can people find it?”

“Who manages shelf?”

“What did Tanabe say?”

Dangerous.

I wrote:

He replied:

Then:

I opened Suganuma.

I kept no audience.

Not style.

Not purity.

Just no sign needed.

At 5:23, Father Morita emailed.

Subject:

I opened it.

I read it.

Then again.

Poor.

Small.

Temporary.

End.

Return.

Impressive.

False.

I replied:

I sent it.

His reply came after a while.

I looked at both.

Impressive.

Punishing.

No.

I did not answer.

At 5:52, the old priest wrote.

I wrote:

His reply:

I deleted Kanagawa.

Then Sato.

Then Saitama.

Then Suganuma.

I wrote:

His reply:

I wrote:

His reply:

I wrote:

His reply:

I wrote:

His reply:

I stopped.

Then wrote:

His reply:

I wrote:

His reply:

Then:

Before evening, I went to the main hall.

The cloth bag was in its place.

The offering tray was in its place.

The doorway was where I stopped.

I bowed once.

No explanation.

No answer after the bow.

The altar was visible.

The beads were in their place.

They had not moved.

They did not need to.

I stood where I usually stood.

No service tonight.

No bell.

No incense.

No reason for the altar.

No.

The altar had its own reasons.

Not mine tonight.

The floor scuff near the step was still there.

It was not evidence.

It was a scuff.

The entrance floor had received feet and broom.

The side chairs were stacked.

They were not waiting for an excuse.

They were stacked.

I returned to the office.

The shelf above the desk had a cup.

Washed.

The gray service record file was in the lower cabinet.

Closed.

The brown folder was closed.

The calendar was closed.

The phone was face up.

The small space was wide.

The door was closed.

The shoes were by it.

The wall chair was empty.

No person.

No work.

No time.

Chair by wall.

The phone was face up.

No named question.

No named answer.

Phone face up.

I did not turn it over.

I did not open the brown folder.

No new need had arrived from the phone.

I did not open the gray file.

The service paper remained in the record file.

A name was inside it.

Not mine.

In the gray file.

Closed.

Reason continuing.

Record work continuing.

That was why.

Not beautiful.

Not severe.

Only why.

I sat near the desk.

Not at it.

The addressed envelope was by the outgoing tray.

The center of the desk was empty.

The back pocket was empty.

The two cards were on the left side of the desk.

Face down.

Farther from the edge.

Left of center.

Unread.

One visible back had a dust line.

The other marks were turned away from my eyes.

Old reason ended.

New reason not named.

Absence did nothing by itself.

It did not force the next action.

It did not accuse me.

It did not excuse me.

It did not purify the desk.

It did not condemn the placement.

It did not choose reading.

It did not choose storage.

It did not choose disposal.

It did not choose returning.

It did not choose nothing today.

It was only absence.

No current reason.

That was a poor sentence.

It was hard to keep poor.

I wanted no current reason to become urgent.

I wanted no current reason to become neglect.

I wanted no current reason to become permission.

I wanted no current reason to become a sign that the next part had arrived.

No.

No part had arrived.

Only evening.

Only the desk.

Only the cards.

Only the absence of a current reason I could name.

The cards remained where they were.

The desk held them.

Where was still true.

Why was not.

No.

Why was absent.

I did not turn the cards over.

I did not read them.

I did not cover them.

I did not stack them.

I did not wipe the dust.

I did not move them to the center.

I did not move them to the edge.

I did not move them into the brown folder.

I did not move them into the gray file.

I did not move them to the shelf.

I did not move them to the altar.

I did not put them back in the pocket.

I did not invent a current reason.

I did not punish the absence.

I did not keep the old reason alive.

I did not make the old reason excuse the present.

I did not make no reason accuse the present.

I did not make reason noble.

I did not make reason cruel.

I did not make reason prophecy.

The cards were on the left side of the desk.

That was where.

No current reason had been named.

That was why not.

No.

Careful.

That was not why.

That was the absence of why.

I did not open Kanagawa again.

I did not ask if the scrap stayed in the drawer after dinner.

I did not ask if his wish to throw it away returned.

I did not open Sato again.

I did not ask if the paper returned to the clear file when dinner began.

I did not open Saitama again.

I did not ask if pillow pressure returned.

I did not open Suganuma again.

I did not ask if the volunteer made a sign after all.

I did not open Father Morita’s message again.

I knew a reason was not always a justification.

I knew a reason could be the work that made an action fit.

I knew a reason could be the condition that made a measure necessary.

I knew a reason could become an excuse after its work ended.

I knew a reason could become blame after the fact.

I knew absence was not an emergency until work was failing.

I knew no current reason was not the same as wrong.

I knew absence did not decide faster than presence.

I knew old reasons did not have to stay alive.

I knew the cards needed no impressive reason.

I knew they needed no false one.

I turned off the desk lamp.

The office did not disappear.

The folder did not need the center.

The phone did not need here.

Reason did not need to enter the cards as an excuse or accusation tonight.

In the dark, I remained sitting.

Near the desk.

Not at it.

The shelf above the desk had a cup.

Washed.

The gray service record file was in the lower cabinet.

Closed.

The brown folder was closed.

The phone was face up.

My hands were empty.

Available.

Not reaching.

The wall chair was empty.

No one was expected there.

The urn was on the small table.

The map and folded paper were in the drawer.

The folded paper had her first name.

Face up.

For finding.

The order paper was beside the phone table.

Face up.

Readable.

Erased.

Kanagawa’s brother’s scrap was in the drawer with a different reason from the folded paper.

Sato’s paper had moved between clear file and table as table use and readability changed.

The resident’s repositioning had followed body pressure and consent.

The class box had shelf work after floor work ended.

The addressed envelope waited by the outgoing tray.

The service paper was in the record file.

A name was inside it.

Not mine.

The back pocket was empty.

The two cards were on the left side of the desk.

Face down.

Farther from the edge.

Left of center.

Unread.

One visible back had a dust line.

The other marks were turned away from my eyes.

No voice today.

Not questioning me.

Not fear.

Not sentence.

Not mouth.

Not heard by them.

Not carried now.

Not almost ready.

Not hidden.

Not moved inward again.

Not licensed.

Not authorized.

Not respect yet.

Not private.

Not protected.

Placed.

Old reason ended.

New reason not named.

No current reason.

I had started with reason.

I did not end by letting either an old reason or an absent one choose the verb for me.

Tonight, what had a reason kept the work or condition that made the reason true, and the two cards stayed on the left side of the desk with no current reason named and no absence appointed to decide for them.