Page 114 of Specters & Spotlights

She didn’t answer.

Graham didn’t press. He let the silence stretch a breath longer, then broke it softly. “You’re right. They are brown. Mostly.”

Elise raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?”

He smiled, like he was letting her in on a secret. “I’ve noticed something. When you’re excited—really excited, about something you love—they change.”

She frowned. “Change how?”

He leaned in a little closer. “They get this green ring around the iris. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It reminds me of spring. That very first edge of new leaves, when the light hits them just right.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

No one had ever said anything like that to her—not in that tone, with that kind of attention. Her stomach twisted in a way that wasn’t nerves. It was… being seen. And not pulled apart. Just witnessed. Held.

Graham smiled again, soft and crooked. “You’re doing it right now.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“That green rim. It’s there.”

Elise didn’t answer. She just smiled—small at first, then brighter. And slower. Like it surprised her.

They looked at each other for a long moment, neither of them moving, like something sacred had settled between them.

Then they started to lean in.

And—

A sound. Faint. Metallic.

Elise’s brows knit. “Do you hear that?”

They both stilled.

It was high-pitched, distant—like a bell or an alarm. Not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the moment. It rang in short, staccato bursts, just insistent enough to be unsettling.

Graham pulled back slightly, frowning. “What is that?”

“I don’t know.” Elise turned her head, trying to locate it. “It’s somewhere on this floor. Not the stage. Maybe the hall?”

The sound continued—mechanical, like a tiny emergency that hadn’t decided how urgent it wanted to be.

“Could be a stagehand’s timer,” Graham offered, but even as he said it, he didn’t sound convinced.

“It doesn’t feel like that,” Elise murmured. Her body had already shifted—out of the warmth, into alertness. “It sounds… wrong.”

They shared a glance.

Reluctantly, she took a step back. “We should check.”

Graham nodded, already moving with her toward the door with a light sigh.

Their almost-kiss hung in the air like a note unresolved.

The sound continued as they stepped out of the wig closet—high-pitched and relentless. It echoed faintly through the green room, threading between the mismatched chairs and flickering bulbs, growing sharper the farther they moved from the closet.

“It’s down here somewhere,” Elise said softly. “Definitely not up on the stage.”