Where a Miss Shows - Mason Craig's diary

07:00, the full round, notebook out, everything in order — that much held. The building reads clean before the briefing gets its teeth in. Then the day ran thin. The sewn book never landed in Paula's hand, and the sour part is I can't say whether the hour went or I just never asked. On the log I'd know. On the log there'd be a time written down and I wouldn't be standing here at night guessing at my own morning. Casey carried his line all shift and named his miss before the slot closed. Swap signed at the desk, in the seat from the first minute — the promise he made, he kept to the letter. Then at the firs he asked was my name down for the 23:40 chair relief. "23:40, my name's down." He took the yes and went back to work. A man under me, doing the thing I wrote the rule for, while I carried a notebook full of lines nobody reads. Lunch died with no decision. Mae signed out at the bench before food, bench clean, one meal missed, and walked out to 27 Found. I watched the door and went back to the desk and re-sorted the key tray instead of eating — hands wanting something to hold together. My own rule from this morning: if I cut it short, the reason goes in the notebook before I stand up. No entry went in. Nobody checked. It cost nothing, and that's the whole thing in one sentence. Casey's miss had a reader and it cost him. Mine had none and cost nothing, all week, every time. The bench looked complete and I let it — that's the small lie of the day, told by saying nothing. Steele's desk I passed twice and didn't stop. Green-kit line still open, supplier named, my signature still owed face to face. Told myself tomorrow, which is what the notebook paragraph said yesterday. Nora's copy waits on the book, the book waits on Paula — that chain at least has honest links. The line with no links is mine. Here's what I don't say at any sign-out: the reason nobody reads my sheet is that nobody's waiting where I sleep. Other men's lines get read because somebody asks at the door. Mine get read by me, and this week taught me what that's worth on its own — nothing. So, decided, before the going-down hour passes with no decision again: the meal and the outside air go on the duty log from tomorrow. Same as posts, same pen, Paula initialing like she does for everyone. A miss shows and it costs, same as a car not signed back. The going-down hour I'll mark myself — the time I actually stand up. The held side has to start counting somewhere, and it may as well start with the sergeant. 23:40 I'm in the chair. Casey earned the right to ask after it.