I stood at the finished pier a year later, watching the vendors open their stalls.
The market's metal roof rose above the harbor on pale blue columns. The flood wall sat low and wide, almost invisible from the path. Rain gardens filled the gap between the pier and the old ferry terminal. The ramp bent where I had first drawn it, then changed twice after the engineers found a better way to anchor it. The final design was not mine alone. I knew where Priya had changed the circulation plan, where Jonah had strengthened the structure, and where the vendors had insisted on wider service doors.
Their names were on the project plaque beside ours.
The cooperative's first-year sales had exceeded the city's estimate. The bakery had a line out the door. Cora's seafood counter was still setting up
