The ribbon section lasted mere seconds—silk unwinding, releasing us from the tether—before the formation shifted again.
My turn.
Second half of the chorus. Center stage.
I stepped forward as the other voices pulled back, leaving space for the emotional climax.
The mask should have hidden my vulnerability.
In some ways, it did—porcelain concealing the nervous flicker in my jaw, the way my eyes darted when anxiety spiked.
But it also trapped me.
The weight sat wrong on my face, throwing off my balance as I pivoted. My peripheral vision narrowed to slits; the world was reduced to fragments through the cutouts.
"In this labyrinth of sound
Where the lost are never found..."
My voice held steady, but my body faltered.
The step sequence required precision—a sharp pivot, weight transfer, arms extended—
My foot landed wrong.
Too close. Too forward.
I tipped.
A hand caught my elbow.
Firm. Steady. Gone before anyone else noticed.
