(AVA)
The morning is quiet in a way that feels deliberate, like the city agreed to hold its breath.
We are on opposite sides of the project table the way we have always been, blueprints spread between us, my coffee on my side and his on his. He asks about the residential corridor transition and I pull the revised elevation across the table and let him look at it properly. He does not rush it. He never rushes my drawings. He looks at them the way you look at something you actually want to understand.
“The threshold material,” he says after a moment. “If it matches the corridor floor the two spaces lose their distinction. They bleed into each other and you lose the transition entirely.”
“I know.” I pull the tile samples toward him. “I have been going back and forth between these two opti
