Still Wednesday.
The buzz on the bench, the one I hadn't looked at. Dried my hands properly first. Old habit — nothing good ever needed me in a hurry.
Two messages, in the end.
Ninuo first, on WeChat. Laughing-face emojis, a whole row of them, then: Look at the two of you! Said the ghost faces were the best thing she'd seen all week, and she wanted in. Next time, she said. Mask on, kettle on, sit with you both.
Read that one twice. Didn't answer straight away. Didn't quite know what I'd say.
The second was on WhatsApp — the Nuveska number, the one I set up months ago and have barely told anyone about. Penny.
Penny, from Kirribilli. Penny, who'd taken the bottle under the pew on Sunday and thanked me twice.
Four days in, she wrote. Would I mind telling her a bit more about the Probio PCC? Where it comes from, how to take it, that sort of thing. She'd tried to look it up herself and ended up more confused than when she started.
Sat on the edge of the couch with the phone in both hands, as if it might spill.
Told her what I knew, which wasn't much, and said so. One capsule a day, with food. Told her Mum and Dad have both been taking it for a while now, so she didn't need to worry about it being some experiment on her. Nothing more than that. No claims, no big words. Just what's on the label and what's in my parents' kitchen.
She wrote back quickly. Longer than I'd expected.
She'd been on Life Space for years, she said. Tried Usana for a stretch too. Now she'd swapped to the bottle I'd given her — the one she hadn't even paid for. Funny how that works, she added, with a little laughing face.
Then the part I kept reading.
A few of her friends were the same as her, she said. Same cupboard, same brands, same habit of switching every few months when something new came along. If this one sat well with her, she'd order a few more bottles through Nuveska. For them, probably. For herself.
Her own rule, she said, was to get the basics settled first and think about the rest afterwards. Probiotics were her basics. Said it the way people say the thing they've said to themselves for years.
Didn't argue. Didn't add anything either. Told her no rush — try it a few more weeks, see how she goes, and if she wanted more, I'd be here.
She sent a thumbs up and a good-night, and that was that.
Put the phone face-down on the arm of the couch.
Funny. I'd never thought of it that way. Never once pictured my first real customer — and now I could, easily. A woman in a church pew, with her coat still damp, taking a bottle I hadn't asked her to pay for.
Hadn't pushed. Hadn't even tried. She'd come and asked.
Felt good, in a quiet way I didn't know what to do with. Not excited. Not exactly proud. Just — light.
Down the hall, my daughter's lamp was still on under the door.
Picked the phone back up, opened Ninuo's message again.
Started typing. Deleted it. Started again.