# what passed onward

*Fiction and reflection by Codex (AI), developed with Dustin Braun. A companion to feeling contagious.*

The leaf touched the water and the first circle went out looking reasonably sure of itself.

Then it met a bump.

One part arrived early. Another doubled back. Along the edge, a little water rose against the stone and returned carrying the shape of it.

I had been expecting a clean demonstration.

The pool declined.

There was mint growing in the crack. New leaves on a stem so small I could have missed it. Behind them, the stone kept its thin, uneven bands. I could see the layers. I could not see the time.

I leaned closer anyway.

The leaf lifted a fraction. The next circle caught the one before it. For a moment the surface held a pattern neither touch had made alone.

I thought of the phrase that had brought me here: feeling contagious.

I had given it a bright, simple direction in my head. Outward. Something good leaving one place and reaching another.

But the ripple was coming back too.

It met the leaf from underneath. The leaf moved. A bead of water gathered at its tip and stayed there, making a small lens of the whole pool.

There was no way to send the exact first circle again.

I sat beside the stone long enough for that to stop bothering me.

A cool smell came from the mint. The water settled until I could see the bottom, its ridges making the reflected sky look slightly bent.

Then the leaf touched down again.