Chapter 8 - The Tide Turns
Bradley turned around and walked down the newly built wooden steps, his shoes crunching softly against the gravel path. He didn't look back at his phone. He just kept walking, step by steady step, toward the open road.
I watched him go until he disappeared around the bend of Driftwood Lane, swallowed up by the golden afternoon light.
Then I closed the door, sliding the heavy brass deadbolt into place with a satisfying, solid click.
I walked back into the living room, the smell of fresh cedar and lavender filling my lungs. Carol looked up from her desk, her eyes bright with a quiet, unshakeable inquiry.
"Everything alright?" she asked.
May you like
I sat down in the chair beside her, picking up my pencil and pulling the blueprints back toward us. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the ocean in shades of deep amber and violet—a horizon stretching out infinitely before us, built on a foundation that nothing could ever wash away.
"Everything," I said, smiling as I picked up my ruler, "is structurally sound."
