#27. Still in Beta.

She corrected the angle of paintings in other people’s houses.
The tilt of walls briefly steadied.

The chair judged her manner blunt.
The window mistook her for weather.
The floor, which had carried her the longest, stayed silent.

The machine, still in beta, sent a word for it.
It was accurate, yet it fell short of her measure.

No gods, no newsletters.
We do not interrupt by email.

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