The finished sign settles securely beside the community bulletin board just as afternoon light reaches the square.

Socks gives the frame one final stability check. Chef Crumbs straightens, satisfied. Chip stands beneath the decorative arrow and waits for it to point at him.

It rotates past.

“I respect its independence,” Chip says.

Mo takes a sip of coffee. “It has no stated obligations.”

Glitch looks from the warm cream center to the painted spirals, geometric accents, and slowly turning arrow. Nothing has been polished into anonymity. The sign is practical, complete, and unmistakably theirs.

Dozer settles at the edge of the gathering with his blanket. “Worth getting up for.”

From Dozer, the review lands like a standing ovation.

As the others admire the finished work, Glitch notices one ordinary rounded pushpin securing a nearby notice. Glitch studies its shape, then the bulletin board roof, then the rotating arrow.

The familiar spark returns. Glitch lifts the yellow pencil.

“I just had another idea.”