Plot Twelve, Unoccupied

Quiet Majority

A Partridge Cochin rooster in a sage linen field jacket over a cream henley, crouching low beside a weathered limestone headstone in an overgrown wildflower cemetery meadow, a leather-bound field notebook and magnifying glass on the grass beside him, soft golden morning light filtering through old oak branches

He had walked the same path for eleven years before anyone thought to count what lived beneath it. The number, when it came, struck him as less a discovery than a correction — the ground had been keeping its own books all along.

5 June 2026

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