By the next morning, the O2 no longer looked empty.
It was still missing the crowd, but that was the only thing absent.
Crew members moved across the floor with rolls of cable, toolboxes, folded risers, camera rigs, and the tight expressions of people who had accepted that sleep was now a rumor. The stage had grown overnight, not into something extravagant, but into something deliberate. Black flooring stretched across the main platform. Marks had been taped in quiet colors only the performers and camera team would understand. Light bars hung above like unfinished thoughts, waiting for someone to tell them where to aim.
The arena carried sound differently before an audience entered. A footstep became larger than it deserved. A laugh traveled strangely. A dropped metal clamp made three technicians turn at once.
