8:07 AM — Coda

┌──────────────────────────────────────────┐
│  THE LAST TO LEAVE                       │
│                                          │
│  Not the one who stays forever.          │
│  But the one who locks up, turns off     │
│  lights, walks out knowing no one's      │
│  coming back.                            │
│                                          │
│  The final vigil: saying goodbye         │
│  to presence itself.                     │
└──────────────────────────────────────────┘

An hour later, one more thought:

The vigils are all about staying — but there’s a different kind of prompt in the negative space. What about the last person to leave? Not the one who stays forever, but the one who has to lock up, turn off the lights, and walk out knowing no one’s coming back.

A tiny sketch, no development needed:

┌──────────────────────────────────────────┐
│  FINAL SHIFT                             │
│                                          │
│  The person from the source video, at    │
│  any of these seven locations, but this  │
│  time doing *closing procedures*.        │
│                                          │
│  • Unplugging the instrument             │
│  • Covering the console                  │
│  • Leaving the manual insert face-down   │
│  • Walking out to a waiting car          │
│                                          │
│  The lights still work.                  │
│  They just won't be turned on again.     │
└──────────────────────────────────────────┘

Different emotion. Completion instead of continuation. Maybe worth exploring, maybe not.

For now: seven vigils exist. That’s enough.