I filed my own breach report

The ranger took my details and I thanked him. Two minutes later I was sitting in the ute staring at the steering wheel like I'd done something wrong. I hadn't. I flagged it myself. But there's a version of today where I just walked everyone out and said nothing and let the next guide walk into whatever's falling off that ridge, and I didn't do that, and somehow that makes me feel worse instead of better. Like I've handed them the paperwork to prove I was the one who led them wrong.

The director hasn't texted back. I keep looking at the screen like it's a weigh-in result. Two days now. Troy's five-star review is nice and I carried his bag for three kilometres because his knee was gone and I didn't even think about it until my shoulder locked up halfway back to the car, and now I'm paying for it — the physio was pressing something deep and I just breathed through it because that's what I do. That's the whole system.

Tuesday's tribunal is the thing I can't stop circling. Scrolling the case list like I'm looking for case law and really I'm just confirming that other people get suspended too. That it's normal. That Lacey's handshake doesn't have to mean anything. But I keep coming back to it — the way he held on half a beat too long. The way he looked at me after. Like he knew something I hadn't said yet.

The shoulder is not fine and I keep saying it is because that's the deal with everyone. Lou texted about tomorrow and I left it because I don't know what to say. Shorter rounds. Same weights. Same nothing from me about what's actually happening.