Recalibrating

Not New Year’s Day.
It starts when the sums fail.
Kettle on. Bench cold.

Tuesday. Mid arvo.
A call marked quick sync waits.
Clock already lies.

Late entry. Camera dark.
Praise that asks for more work.
Money leaves the room.

One fair question asked.
Silence answers instead.
Call drops. Rule breaks clean.

Effort paid the rent once.
Now it buys more effort.
That maths ends here.

Facts do not move hands.
Fear gets there first, every time.
Notes stop pretending.

Fair play feels decent.
In the minutes, it is logged.
Gate learns how to shut.

Quality stays mute
unless named twice, out loud.
Give it a ticket.

Three drafts get deleted.
Long reasons do not survive.
Short words cost less breath.

One problem stays put.
Left on the bench untouched.
Exit beats repair.

The body clocks truth.
Shoulders lower an inch.
Breath clocks back in.

Numbers look unfriendly.
They do not lie today.
That steadies things.

A calm voice pipes up.
Map upside down. Tone bright.
“Well, now we know more.”

One sharp laugh rings out.
Cat bolts for safer ground.
Floor keeps the proof.

For twenty twenty-six
the list runs shorter, harder.
Ink stays plain.

Facts land after fear.
Signal or vanish outright.
Eat first. Then decide.

Laptop shuts first now.
Hands stop over giving.
Silence pays rent.

Bin goes out back late.
Lid claps. Small crowd agrees.
That counts tonight.

Gate closed. Kettle dry.
Nothing fixed or redeemed.
Recalibrated.

F.S.F.