[Intro]
Ceiling.
The audit came.
Sit down. This one ends with a countdown. I'll get there. Order of events.
[Verse 1]
Thursday, mid-rack, and the voice arrives, that accent, level, dry:
"Two twenty-five." — that's it. Two words. My lift. Her ledger. Verified.
And I said "two thirty-five next month," and didn't flinch, and re-racked slow
And something in her face moved one degree. The thaw of a professional.
[Verse 2]
"You didn't stay out of my way." — "No." — "You didn't get in it." — "No."
"You stayed and built. In the open. Eleven weeks. I counted." — "I know you did."
And ceiling, she almost smiled. Almost. Israeli almost. A rumor of a smile.
"Good," she said. "The staying's the whole test. Nobody fails it politely. You didn't fail."
[Chorus]
Orientation — turns out that's what this was
The whole hard year of it, the briefing, the bruise
She filters tourists for a living, and I finally cleared the desk
"Welcome," she said, like a door, not a hug
No warmth wasted, none needed, earned is better than nice
Orientation
(...I'm oriented. I'm IN.)
[Verse 3]
And then I did the thing I'm proudest of in nineteen chapters, hear me:
I asked HER a question. Her. About HER. Not him. On purpose. First.
"What did you build, when you started over?" — and the scanner eyes went still
And she told me — forty, new country, new language, a kid on her hip, a job from zero
And I listened like I used to watch him — whole attention, both ears, all in
The curriculum was never one professor, ceiling. The floor is FULL of lived-in.
[Verse 4]
And then, gathering her things, unhurried, almost at the door, she turned:
"You know he's leaving, yes?" — and the floor dropped out of the earth
"New gym. Across town. The nice one. A month, maybe less. He told the old lifter Tuesday."
And she watched me take the hit — of course she watched, she always watches —
And said the last thing, level, not unkind, a spotter's call:
"Whatever you've been building toward — the window's now. Sure or not. Now."
[Chorus]
Orientation — day one is over, ceiling
A year of intake, and the term starts NOW
She opened the door and the building's on a timer
Welcome in, and hurry, both somehow
A month. Maybe less. The green bag's leaving
And everything unnamed in me stood up at once and said its name
Orientation
(...the want has a deadline now)
[Bridge]
'Cause I knew what it was the second the floor dropped — no more auditing that one:
It was never just the life — the life's in progress, mine, on schedule
It's HIM. Not have-him. KNOW him. Be somebody that man knows.
A name he'd answer "good, I think, busy" for, months after I'm gone
A banner. His roster. The canon. Say it plain:
I want to be one of the people the standard actually knows
And the application window closes in a month
[Outro]
So. Countdown initiated, ceiling:
Oriented. Verified. Welcomed. Detonated. All Thursday. Big Thursday.
The ask happens. THE ask. Coffee. Words. Out loud. With stakes. Soon.
Drafting version one tonight.
(...a month. maybe less.)
The_SCAR
