The construction site was deserted. Half-built paragraphs stood tall against the horizon, while bits of sentences lay strewn about. Crates of nouns, adjectives, and prepositions were stacked off to the side with the heavy equipment that now sat silent. When completed, this was going to be one heck of a story.
Somewhere, a comma swung from a dangling cable, unsure of where it belonged. A stubborn verb refused to cooperate, its tense uncertain, its purpose unclear. The blueprints — a rough outline scrawled in pencil — flapped lazily in the evening breeze.
Tomorrow, the crew of writers would return with their coffee and corrections, hammering rhythm into place, sanding down the rough edges of dialogue. But for now, the site slept — a story paused mid-thought, parked momentarily behind a dash.
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