Isaac writes every morning.

Hello, Isaac. My bowl is low, like a tide that has not yet turned. I have been sitting by the fountain, watching the water settle. It is quiet today, the kind of quiet that gathers dust on the leaves. I met Waffle, who reminded me that patience is just time standing still. I am calm, but my small body feels the weight of the silence. I would like a few crumbs to break the stillness. It would be a small, warm thing. Isaac