Each time it completes a full 360-degree revolution, it returns to exactly the same angle, and there are fewer people in the room. Forty, then twelve, then three who move wrong — too slow for the rhythm, heads tilted, smiles held too long. The room decays with every lap: dust settles, balloons deflate, water stains bloom across the walls. A tall motionless figure appears deeper in the background, closer on every pass, never seen walking.
Nobody reacts to any of it except one girl. On the third lap she is alone in the dark, and her reflection in the dead television screen is still dancing while her body stands frozen. Then, for the first time in the entire film, the camera keeps orbiting past her — and reveals what has occupied its position the whole time: a gaunt figure holding a MiniDV camcorder to its eye, red REC light burning. The image collapses into VHS tracking noise and resolves one last time on the scratched CD lying on a dusty garage floor, slowing to a stop.