The shelter entrance had sagged another finger’s width while they were at the coast.
Kellan saw it before he unloaded his bag. The temporary cover still kept most rain off the upper step, but a damaged fixing had begun to pull away from the patched frame. A resident had tied a strip of cloth across the loose edge so people would see it before brushing past.
He put down the bag and asked who had checked it that morning.
“The committee’s maintenance volunteer,” the desk worker said. “She marked the movement and closed that side.”
The open side was narrow. A person could walk through; the larger mobility chair had to use the service route at the back. That route worked only when the delivery space remained clear, which was already causing arguments over the afternoon supplies.
Kellan thanked her for closing the unsafe section. Then he found the resident committee’s representative and asked to see the repair record before touching anything.
Eli stood in the hallway behind him, still carrying the folder from the coastal office.
“We have a return booking to arrange,” he said.
