I kept our front door open after the ordinary corridor returned, refusing another immediate test through panic. Warmth remained across my face, while one red blade rested against the interior threshold where clean tile had existed. The impossible object made closing the door feel dangerous and leaving it open feel equally foolish.
Nina stopped me before I touched it and placed an empty glass container nearby. Thea checked our air monitor, while Yuna recorded her own screen from national residence without leaving the call.
"Nobody crosses the threshold, touches unknown material, or closes the evidence inside shared air. Follow the anomaly protocol before curiosity invents urgency," Nina said.
We moved six steps backward and closed the apartment's internal air partition. The red blade remained motionless despite ordinary corridor ventilation, its color closer toward dark copper than any decorative grass.
