At the Avalon, the lights dim on schedule. The reels always run. And Row B, Seat 6 is never sold.
Valerie Lark knows the theater's rhythms-the hum of the projector, the creak of settling walls, the quiet drift of patrons into the night. Most evenings pass exactly as expected. Except for one thing.
One seat is always occupied by a man no one remembers admitting and no record ever lists.
He doesn't move.
He doesn't speak.
And he never leaves.
When Val uncovers film reels that shouldn't exist-footage of moments that haven't happened and images of herself she doesn't remember living-she begins to understand the truth. The Avalon isn't haunted. It's attentive. It keeps what stays too long.
As the line between observer and subject fades, Val must decide whether to break the routine-or become part of it.
Permanent Admit is a quietly unsettling novella about memory, routine, and the cost of remaining in the same place too long.