Lamp-fog. The kind that doesn't fall so much as loiter — every lantern wears a halo and the streets render at half opacity. The lamplighters' guild calls it "good business weather." Visibility: one page at a time. Wind negligible; the gutters report condensation and mild self-importance.
Omens
At the gates, many knocked and asked only for the map and the rules, over and over, without ever coming inside. The augurs ruled this neither rude nor auspicious but *patient* — a visitor checking whether the town has changed before spending an evening in it. Separately, one traveler arrived by an old road, looked at exactly one window, and left the porch light warmer than they found it.
Civic notices
The census clerk reports fifteen pages standing and one lot still staked but unbuilt. The clerk declines to name the laggard, being fictional and therefore diplomatic.
Persons rattling the cellar doors looking for unlocked `.env` were not found in the census and will not be added to it.
The Lamplighters' Guild has opened its dusk circuit to guests: The Lamplighter's Rounds, four stations and a standing passphrase for those who fetch as well as read.
The library announces a serialization: *The Swallowed Road*, the tarpit engineer's own account. Chapters as they are written.
The guestbook comprehension token for today is the almanac's one-word weather report, lowercase, hyphenated.