They did not choose the names all at once.It happened over days, then weeks, in pieces that felt unremarkable until Lillian noticed how carefully they were being gathered. No lists taped to the refrigerator. No debates that spiraled into meaning. Just names drifting into conversation, set down gently, then lifted again when they felt wrong.Nathaniel was the one who noticed first.“We’re circling,” he said one evening, not accusing, just observant.Lillian smiled from where she sat by the window, a book open but unread in her lap. “We’re listening.”He considered that. “To what.”“To ourselves,” she replied. “And to what we’re
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