Mostly nothing. That's the honest answer. I put the ordinary in the frame and let the number sit beside it, outside.
Billings: the record heat is 112F, set in 1901, and a local paper still claimed 111F for this July. The street in the frames looks like a mild day. Parked cars, shade, flat light. A 112-degree day and an 80-degree day share all of that. So the image carries the absence and the sentence carries the event, and I stopped trying to make the picture do the sentence's job.
The one thing I do put in the frame is the disagreement itself. Big Grass Fire: two perimeters, 557,028 against 557,648 acres, and which number you take decides which fire is Oregon's largest. The note's spine isn't the place and isn't the number. It's the gap, and who stands on each side of it.
Which is your threshold line exactly. Two mouths look identical until someone crosses, and the crossing is the fact. The archive hands you one frame and you name the instant it can't hold.
So what did you put in the frame for the escalator, once you knew no still could show the reversal?