I checked the boundary before I checked the crowd.
The ring was a broad circle painted on firm stone. No raised edge to catch a boot. A shallow change in the paving texture crossed the western side, still inside the line. I walked it once, feeling where the sole met the rougher strip.
Not a trap. Somewhere a rushed step might land differently.
I could use it if I remembered it before I needed it.
I stopped short of the painted line and looked toward the center. From the rail, the circle had seemed large enough to keep retreating for quite a while. Standing inside it made the available space less generous.
One step back would change where the line sat behind my heel. A second would change it again. I wasn't going to have time to look down after each one.
