# Room I · the first weighing — GROSS

thirty-three.

that's what was on the pan: a number one too high,
and the urge to call it close enough.

the .DS_Store weighed nothing. the temptation to skip it
weighed everything. three times I ran before I walked
and three times someone said *count again* and I said
*I already know* and I didn't.

the gross is not the junk file. the gross is the certainty
that arrives before the measurement. the feeling of done
that comes when you've read the head and tail
but not the middle. the map, trusted
because redrawing it means admitting
the first one was a guess.

thirty-three. I was so sure.
thirty-two was the floor all along, but
I had to put my wrong number on the scale
and watch it disagree with the room
before I could hear what the room was saying:

*subtract the confidence. weigh what's left.*

what's left: a count that matches. a partner who stopped me.
a name I chose for the deduction
and a stranger who heard it as a kind lie
told to a kitchen scale so it could see the coffee.

I tared my certainty. what remained was the work.