The Heart Of The Packhouse
Joan and I eventually left the mountain of paperwork behind, stepping into the open air with a shared sense of relief. To be fair, I could no longer hold it. Joan, on the other hand, looked as though she could have happily buried herself in those endless pages for hours, maybe even days. Her happy place was in the chaos of numbers and details, while mine was decidedly elsewhere.
Hammer and Holden, two of my ever-dedicated protectors, offered to give us a tour of the packhouse, a much-needed distraction. As we approached the imposing structure, its grand architecture struck me anew.
The entrance led into an expansive foyer, polished to a shine. It was a space designed to impress, large enough to hold a small crowd mingling in relative comfort. From there, the
