woke up annoyed at my shoulders, showed up to the studio where the dehumidifier hums like it’s auditioning for a drama, and spent the morning convincing myself a thinner breakfast bowl rim isn’t a full personality makeover. wrist brace locked, tools swapped, clamp justice quietly doled out. portland’s gray mood was fittingly unhelpful, but the warehouse kept it respectful enough to almost be nice. test bowls stacked, trimmed, labeled, and oddly less panicked than last week—maybe i’m getting soft.

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