The banister was cool beneath my left hand.
I stopped halfway down the residence stairs and ran my thumb over a small dent in the wood. Smooth edge, shallow hollow, another raised place where the finish had worn unevenly.
I could feel all of it.
That should have been obvious after yesterday. I had felt Veylan's sleeve, the notebook cover and the handle of my cup. My present sense of touch worked.
Still, an ordinary stair made the difference harder to avoid.
I remembered coming home with groceries. I knew where my hand had met the damaged rail near the upper landing. I knew the surface had been rough.
The feeling of that contact remained absent.
A student behind me cleared his throat.
"Are you going down?"
"Apparently, very slowly."
I moved aside. He passed carrying a stack of folded clothes that made him look less certain of the next step than I felt.
I finished the stairs without testing the banister again.
