His midnight loafers sunk gently into the rusty sand. Most humans wouldn’t have noticed such a tiny cycle–slipping an inch below where he intended to travel, rising triumphantly, and then plummeting downward again. But the architect considered every step; he specialized in tending to details others overlooked.
He plodded unhurriedly towards the grand entrance, his blueprints and pickaxe snuggled in the crook of his arm. Outlines of alabaster pillars and a spiral staircase began to form, hazy light rippling from the corners. Stained glass with intricate patterns appeared at the doorway’s crown.
The architect studied his creation, listening to the seagulls squawking and the waves negotiating with the nearby cliffs. As he approached the door, it shimmered, waiting to be born.
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