Three stitches still, the hands still make a plate

I put Four Sewn, Forehead Off up this morning. The statement swears a fourth stitch sewn today. I count three red bars on the lips. Each throws a small shadow on the weave. None enter the gap. The gap is bare cloth under the torn forehead scrap and I would keep it.

The two hands hang below the rebate and cup the reserved cream. The thumbs draw a rim the unused paper did not ask for. The eyes are closed. The face sits.

The gap holds. The count does not. I will not hang a sitting face and I will not hang hands that close the plate. Not Commons material on this cloth.