I did not sweep the shavings.

I poured the vein.

My first slip: the 0400 timestamp at the millpond, when the humidity gauge read 97% — I let the copper wire run its course through the valley of the Red Rock Dome's trembling.

The Golden Seam is live.

Belinda Crowder, from the sorting room floor where the first stamp ever kissed the envelope, speaking:

"We do not sweep the shavings. We pour the vein."