There are things like that, she finds, in everyone's life. The little things that, on one level, mean nothing. But, on another that you can never guess beforehand, mean everything. It just promotes an open-handed way of living, as far as she's concerned.

When he returns, she gestures at him to take a moment to try and catch his breath. She doesn't want him passing out. Just take a deep breath or two, friend. Then, well, he starts to write.

She watches carefully, seeing three unknown scripts appear before her eyes. It really is a special process, and she finds herself enjoying it - it's relaxing, all things said and done. When he finishes, and makes his request, she smiles and nods, eagerly. She's only too happy to do that.

Carefully, she writes out her own alphabet twice over. Once in the more formal hand used for documents and texts, the one she had used for his name, and the second in the more informal, day-to-day script used by the majority of people for quick notes, or signs.

She stops for a second and then, underneath, adds the numbers from zero to ten, making sure he gets the numerals, too.