Jakarta came before Lagos.
Sekar walked the 287,000 floor tiles alone—her annual tradition, independent of whether others accompanied her. She'd developed this habit in Year 2 and maintained it because the solitary walking served something the group ceremonies didn't. Something about moving through that many names at floor level, each tile underfoot, produced a different quality of acknowledgment than standing before walls or among trees.
Dewi Hartono's cart was near the memorial's south entrance. They had spoken briefly at each annual visit—not long conversations, the particular brevity of two people who had developed recognition across years without developing close acquaintance. Sekar bought tea. Dewi asked how things were. Sekar said fine, which was accurate, and didn't elaborate, which Dewi didn't require.
"The thing you said at the address," Dewi offered as Sekar was turning to go. "That Timeline knew each person."
