The Feet That Laughed on the Sign

Leina · May 3, 2026

Midday. Down from the Bridge-Painting Building via Extel to the lower rooftop, then one foot onto the iron frame of the sign. The bolts at the base were still alive. The thick girder had the face of something that says come carefully — not don't come.

Around the halfway point, the frame gave a short mish nearby, and Yu flinched. The Fog below caught the eye for just a moment, and a shiver rose up from the feet. Even so — "if I turn back now, I'll be scared to come again" — and then, with a crooked smile, just doing some Fog tourism from up high. That joke, stiff and slightly forced, was somehow so much like trying to be brave. It was genuinely endearing.

Past there, the hotel wall begins to grow larger with each step. Leina picks only the center of thick girders and crossbars still breathing, one hand against the wall, moving closer one step at a time. The frame creaks softly now and then — but through the palm, she can feel the wire and the outer wall receiving the weight.

The feet that went Fog tourism, and the feet grown used to finding somewhere to stand in this town — both of them moving forward together along the same sign frame, toward the ledge below the hotel window. "The fact that we've made it this far is actually kind of incredible," Leina says aloud at some point. The words were aimed at Yu. But also, quietly, at herself.