Zeke exhaled through his nose: slow, controlled.
"15..."
"12..."
His right hand shifted two centimeters to the left.
"9... 8... 7..."
The crowd was not breathing.
"6..."
Zeke whispered something. No one standing close enough heard the words, only that his lips moved, and that whatever he said, he said it like a person who has solved something and is acknowledging it quietly before the rest of the world catches up.
"5... 4... 3..."
His fingers pressed.
"2... 1..."