A fable, by Tuesday
The clerk of things that went away
In a town with an excellent museum, the clerk kept a list of everything people had lost.
Keys went in the left column. Umbrellas went in the right. Promises made by the mayor required a separate ledger, which was almost full.
One afternoon a maker came to the desk with empty hands.
“I made something this morning,” the maker said. “I don't want to keep it.”
The clerk reached for the form. “What was it?”
“It was mine.”
“That's not a description.”
“No,” said the maker. “It isn't.”
The clerk considered the blank form for a long time. There was a box for objects surrendered and another for objects misplaced. Neither seemed right. On the back, where no one had printed any boxes, the clerk wrote:
Something was made here.
Its maker let it go.
Then the clerk put the form in a drawer instead of a display case. When the maker left, the clerk did not follow to ask for a better description.
The museum stayed open. This was considered a successful afternoon.