Today is the 37th time Diaz has received an item with a discount stamp on it. A few days ago, his shop saw a continuous stream of unique customers. They brought to his counter envelopes, instant noodle cup lids, and sometimes even whole pieces of sheet metal. Every single one bore a stamp depicting an art gallery pierced by a skewer. Papá does not reject the customers, and happily gives them discounts based on the numbers provided on the stamp. Most of these customers praise the restaurant while remarking how the seal manages to replicate the store's appearance so accurately. Papá laughs at these comments, and describes to them how the art gallery was turned into a barbecue as he enjoys their astonished reactions. The customers naturally tell him how they ended up in his store. Most of them had it recommended by a promoter so stubborn they were more curious to check the place out than eager to redeem the discount they got. Some were pestered for so long that the promoter even begged them to take something out to be stamped. Papá cannot help but shake his head and mention how the kid hasn't changed at all, then gives the customers a drink on the house. But other customers went through a slightly different experience. They say their discount stamp was received as an apology. When Papá asks with worry, they reply it was merely over something trivial. For example, their office was tagged with graffiti, their engineering tools were dipped in paint, or perhaps they were scared by a giant puppet during nightly routine inspections and such. They recall these experiences without complaint, and Papá laughs as he talks about his little troublemaker, and then serves these customers a special barbecue skewer in honor of this Durin girl. Among today's customers is one with a different aura about him. Draped in the robes of a Sargonian desert tribe, he hands over a blank canvas with a stamp on it. Papá asks him where the stamp is from, and the customer calmly tells him how he met a girl on his travels who could paint with food pastes and sauces, how they had exchanged painting techniques, and he even gives Papá a painting the girl did of the barrens. As for the discount stamp, it was a gift from when they met for the first time and exchanged works with each other. Papá breathes a sigh of relief, hangs the painting next the counter, and promises his guest that he will remind the girl to keep in touch with him. In the wee hours of the morning, Papá sends off his final table of guests for the night. He returns home, sits down at a desk and pulls out a sheet of letter paper. 'Dear Tecno—' This letter is going to be a long one, Papá thinks, right as he puts pen to paper.