The plates went in at ten. The candles are down to the last inch. Somebody put on a record nobody chose and nobody has changed it. The table was cleared hours ago and not one person has stood up to leave, because leaving would mean deciding the evening is over, and nobody at this table has ever been good at that.
The print
The engraving on the back is a marble figure glancing over his shoulder. It is the exact moment of looking back at the table, the door already half open, and sitting down again. AFTER DINNER in tall serif, and the small print that settles the argument: no curfew in the will.
The joke is older than the print. In every family with a house like this, someone once wrote down the rules. Bed by midnight, shutters closed, glasses washed. The rules were inherited. The nights were not. We read the will carefully and found nothing about curfews.
Which colour
This is the print that belongs to the black shirt. Electric blue on black for the hour when the terrace lights are the only lights. White exists for the lunch the day after, when everybody claims they went to bed early.