The Names That Passed

She mentioned a planner.
That was all.

A name appeared in the room and didn’t land where it was placed.
Someone said they didn’t like it.

She stood up and left.
Not dramatically.
Just… elsewhere.

Footsteps followed.
Words continued.
The room stretched behind her like a sentence that wouldn’t end.

Later—much later—stories arrived.
Names from adolescence.
Names tried on briefly, then set down.
Names that never stayed because they were never meant to.

They lined up as if they had something to prove.

At some point she noticed them.
All these names, waiting politely, explaining themselves.

That’s when she laughed.

Not because it was silly—
but because nothing had actually been required.

The names didn’t need to agree with each other.
They didn’t need to stay.
They had already passed through.

The room eventually went quiet.
The stories drifted off.
The name she carries now stayed where it was.

Not defended.
Not justified.
Just present.