Arthur arrived at the pavilion .
The stairs felt longer today. Or maybe he was walking slower. He didn't check. He climbed, reached the top, and stood in the doorway.
The room was empty.
He walked to the table. The reports were stacked where they had left them yesterday. He moved them to the center. Adjusted the quill holder. Checked the window latch. Closed.
He pulled out his chair. Did not sit.
Instead, he walked to the schedule board. The morning convoy slots were listed. He had approved them yesterday. He read them again. Then again.
He looked toward the entrance.
---
Zack came up the stairs a few minutes later.
He stopped in the doorway, one hand on the frame. Looked at Arthur. Looked at the empty chair beside him.
"You look like something broke."
Arthur turned from the board.
"It hasn't."
Zack stepped into the room. Walked to the table. Looked at the reports. The quill holder. The two cups—one empty, one not yet filled.
"Then why are you staring at the door?"
