Veins

Chapter 1

James McAllister hovers over the drafting table, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the plans. The skeletal lines of the building he envisions fill the sheet—each angle calculated, each room meticulously placed. It's as if the paper whispers the secrets of a world yet to be built, and only he possesses the skill to decode it.

Every line matters. Each measurement either harmonizes with the rest or throws the design into disarray. He reaches for his mechanical pencil, its weight familiar and reassuring. With surgical precision, he adds a few more lines, altering a wall here, adjusting a window there. Each stroke breathes life into the structure, pulling it closer from the realm of ideas into the tactile world.

His gaze shifts to the 3D model on his computer screen. Digital renderings mirror his hand-drawn lines, offering him a glimpse into the future—a future he aims to construct, one precise decision at a time. This is his sanctuary, his domain where variables bend under the will of his expertise.

The rest of the office has already slipped into the afternoon lull, the soft clacking of keyboards and hushed conversations blending into a monotonous hum. But here, amid rulers and digital models, James finds a rare form of silence, a quietude that allows him to think, to create.

He leans back, allowing himself a fleeting moment to admire his work. It's more than lines on paper or pixels on a screen. Its potential, a testament to human ingenuity. He has no room for error; his designs are destined to cradle lives within their walls one day, offering shelter, spaces for existence, and dreams.

Satisfied, he saves his progress on the computer and decides it's time for a break.

As James swivels his chair away from the drafting table, his eyes meet Craig's, who occupies the adjacent workspace, separated by a low partition. Craig's posture tells a different story than James': slouched shoulders, a restless leg, and a gaze that seems lost in the spreadsheet displayed on his monitor. The looming economic downturn has everyone on edge, but Craig, with a perpetually furrowed brow and restless demeanour, embodies the anxiety that hangs heavy in the office air.

"Coffee?" James offers, recognizing the veiled stress in his coworker's face.

Craig looks up, his eyes detaching from the financial figures that haunt him. "Sounds like a plan."

Both men navigate through the maze of cubicles, passing the ubiquitous office plants that long for natural light and the empty chairs of team members who escape early or become victims of the recent layoffs. A hushed tension saturates the air, punctuated only by the intermittent whirring of the photocopier and the muted chitchat of their remaining coworkers.

Upon reaching the kitchenette, James pours two cups of what the office terms' coffee'—a blend that whispers the bitterness of desperation rather than the comfort of any known roast. He hands one to Craig.

"Rough day?" James inquires, adding a dash of milk to his cup.

"You could say that," Craig sighs, his face relaxing as he takes his first sip. "Budget cuts again. Word is, they might outsource some of the junior roles."

Craig glances at James as he speaks, his words laden with unspoken worries about his job security. Craig has a family to support and a mortgage that doesn't care for economic downturns. The room goes quiet as both men ponder the uncertain future.

"So, any updates on the Miller project?" Craig inquires, attempting to steer the conversation back to familiar territory—work.

"We're close," James reassures. "Very close. Just a few more tweaks, and it should be ready for the client review."

Craig nods, taking another sip of his coffee. "Well, if anyone can get it done, it's you."

They share a moment of unspoken camaraderie, each finding a brief respite in their uncertainties. Then, their coffee cups empty, they return to their workstations, the weight of the looming economic crisis settling back onto their shoulders.