I'm overstaying my welcome in the hopes that I can build my first cathedral before I find bar sinisters with question marks underneath them taped to all the doors.

This room is full of things without smells and things with secret smells.

Pregnant with stark memories that don't belong to me.

This room is my ground zero. I drink coffee here and glance around at the remnants
of a life that I am just barely a part of at this point. I overlay this domain with schematics.

I build arches and fashion castellations but I paint them invisible. I insinuate my being into this
place so people wonder if I hadn't been there the entire time. Complicated and gone unnoticed.

I unsettle some with my expert use of shadow. Atmosphere. I intrigue others.

I slice onions with a dull knife and crack jokes to pull a smile from his features, but he's distracted by a girl whose holy domain was a haven before mine even existed.

So I build.

I build a staircase that attaches to her golden parapet, and when I infiltrate, I wander until I find
him. I wander until I find his turtle shaped work room.

I seem to have immersed myself in the dynamics of an isosceles triangle.

I've got more work to do. I've got so much time to lose.