despite myself.
The interns arrived a minute later, and one of them asked if I was the project lead. Such a small question. Such an ordinary one.
Yes, I told her.
Yes.
No borrowed title. No costume meant to diminish me. No one else’s story pinned over mine.
Just my name on the site sheet, my calculations on the plans, my voice carrying through a building that had survived neglect long enough to meet repair.
When I began the walkthrough, the depot was quiet except for the distant clink of tools and the soft echo of our footsteps.
I looked up once at the steel above us, then back at the young women waiting with their notebooks open.
‘First rule,’ I said, and heard how steady I sounded. ‘Never trust a beautiful surface more than the structure beneath it.’
Then I led them forward into the light.
