Osawari pocketed the bead. “That’s enough for tonight,” she said. “We leave the lawbooks and the storms to argue amongst themselves.” She moved through the crowd like a seamstress after a button, nudging small things into better places: a stranger’s dropped scarf folded into a warm triangle around a kitten, a child’s urgent hand reunited with a parent’s distracted wrist, a vendor’s broken tray replaced by the memory of stable hands.