You walk into the Touchstone.

The counter is one long slab of black stone.

Someone has polished it until it looks wet.

You check it tentatively with a single finger.

It is not wet.

The stone is covered in faint gold streaks.

One streak near the end of the counter looks older than the others.

You are unsure why it looks “older.” It continues to look older.

The stools are more adjustable than any stool has a reason to be.

There is a menu board. None of the items are food.

Behind the counter, a woman in a canvas apron is drawing a strip of gold foil across the stone and squinting at the line it leaves like it owes her money.

Two signs hang behind her.

WE DO NOT ANSWER QUESTIONS HERE. WE WEIGH THEM.

REFILLS ARE FREE. ANSWERS ARE NOT AVAILABLE AT THIS LOCATION.

In a glass case by the register sits one apple turnover. The card in front of it says:

PREMATURELY RESOLVED. DISPLAY ONLY. DO NOT EAT THE EVIDENCE.

The woman looks up. She makes a sweeping gesture to The Touchstone and says: “Hello. Welcome to The Touchstone.”

She has clearly never said that sentence before.