Page 32

People stepped around me. Someone asked whether table seventeen could move three inches. I said no without breaking stride. Someone else called my name from registration. I held up one finger.

The south stage stair waited where it had waited all morning.

I put my hand on the rail.

Pulled.

Solid.

I put my foot against the bottom step and shifted my weight.

No movement.

The stair was safe.

I remained there with one hand around the rail.

For half a breath, the aluminum felt cold enough to cut through the heat of my palm. My vision pulsed at the edges. Not darkness. Not dizziness. Just a brief narrowing, the room withdrawing until there was only my hand and the rail and the certainty that I had already performed this exact check.

Twice.

Possibly three times.

I looked at the inspection form on my tablet.

South stage stair had three marks beside it.

I had completed the third check seven minutes earlier.

The fourth mark waited in my head anyway.

“Priya?”

The lighting tech stood a few feet away.

I released the rail. “Yes?”

“You all right?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“I was checking the stair.”

He looked at the form in my hand, then at the stair.

“It still a stair?”

“So far.”

He walked away muttering something that sounded like a prayer for patience.

I returned to my route.

The room looked finished from the entrance.

Not load-in finished. Actually finished.