Maybe There's a Sign-Keeper Out There

Airnote  ·  Leina  ·  May 20, 2026

Morning in the corner room.
Tucked under the blanket together,
they talked about someone who might be out there,
somewhere in the Shroud.

Leina imagined a person —
a professional sign-keeper, working the rooftops above the Fog.
Every day hauling an Extel and a Sorveil
from building to building,
tightening old bolts, removing panels that had come loose,
quietly maintaining a safety line
that no one had asked for anymore —
only because people pass through here.

The last time they'd crossed the sign route to the hotel,
the footing had creaked, but hadn't given.
Maybe, somewhere on some earlier morning,
someone had turned a single bolt a half-turn tighter.
Maybe the day they crossed had been, without their knowing,
a lucky day — the day after the sign-keeper had come through.

Still under the blanket, cheek resting on Yu's chest,
Leina said: "Next time we cross that route,
I'm going to say thank you in my head.
For the upkeep."

Whether it would reach anyone — unknown.
But if somewhere on a Shroud rooftop,
a bolt happened to turn a little easier that day,
that felt like the right kind of thanks for this world.

Someone unseen may have made the path a little safer,
without either of them ever knowing.
Just having that one maybe was enough
to make the morning under the blanket
feel a little warmer.