Table 12
Sila is eleven centimetres taller than the seating chart expected. Table 12 becomes a negotiation about love, sightlines, and whether a wedding can survive a tape measure.
A fictional narrative within Callizto Dark Symphony.
“The chart says 12.”
“The chair says no,” Sila said.
Jaro looked at the chair. It was charming. It was also built for a different century of body.
The cousin who had made the chart arrived with a tablet and the brightness of Pair//Local’s ceremonial package, which promised compatibility without specifying with furniture.
“We can swap you to 9. That’s standing.”
“I’m not a coat rack,” Sila said.
Jaro was already fetching a crate from the kitchen, because marriage was mostly this.
They built a height. It looked like a mistake. It worked.
During the speeches Sila could see. Jaro’s hand was on the crate as if it might bolt.
“You’re first on the lease and second at the table,” he murmured.
“I’m consistent in spirit.”
The cousin took a photograph for the couple’s feed and cropped the crate.
Sila sent the uncropped one to the group later, captioned Infrastructure.
No one from Pair//Local invoiced for it.
The tree in the home courtyard, had it been invited, would have approved.
Mentioned in this record
- Pair//Local