Estelle straightened abruptly in her chair, her breath catching as her pulse spiked. "I fell," she said aloud. "I'm sure of it." But doubt crept in anyway. What if he's right? Her fingers tightened slightly against the armrest. No. You don't guess something like that. You know.
Her heart began to pound, the sound filling her ears as she reached for her phone. The screen lit up, cold against her palm. She clicked the YouTube icon and her fingers moved quickly, muscle memory taking over as she searched for the video. For her performance, that performance.
She tapped the video and it loaded in seconds and she watched it, carefully. The music, the spin, the glide and then the fall came. She leaned forward slightly, her brows drawing together. Then she dragged the timeline back again. Nothing
She watched different angles, zooming in on the moment her skate slipped, her body twisting toward the ice. But she found nothing. No hand, no obstruction, no clear cause. Just the fall.
