Page 5 of Till Orc Do Us Part
“Because that is how I was made,” I answer. “Just as you were made as you are.”
Jamie frowns, considering. “Okay.”
He circles the desk, studying the blueprints with an intensity that belies his size.
“This one looks sad,” he says, pointing to a sleek glass tower. “No one will want to play there.”
I stare at the page. The building is perfect—mathematically flawless. But under his gaze, it looks… cold.
“Not all buildings are made for play,” I say.
“They should be,” he says simply. “Or else they get lonely.”
Another laugh tries to escape. I swallow it. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” He peers up at me again. “Are you lonely?”
The question hits harder than I expect. I mask it with a slow breath.
“I am… occupied.”
Jamie nods, satisfied. He wanders to a side table and picks up a drafting pen. I watch, curious as he flips it in small fingers.
“What’s this?”
“A pen.”
“For drawing?”
“For building.”
He grins. “I want to build.”
I pause. “You wish to build towers?”
“No.” He tilts his head. “I want to build adventures.”
I stare at him. For a moment, the blueprints, the deadlines, the firm’s endless demands—all fade. There is only this small, barefoot boy and a truth I’d long forgotten:
Buildings without heart are just empty shells.
I gesture to an empty chair. “Sit.”
Jamie climbs up eagerly. I pull a spare sheet of vellum from a drawer and slide it before him.
“Show me,” I say.
He grips the pen and begins to draw—wobbly lines forming bridges, spiral staircases, hidden doors. No symmetry. No logic. Only joy.
“That’s a secret garden,” he says. “And that’s where the sea monsters live.”
I nod, watching him work. His world is bright where mine is gray.
“How did you get in here?” I ask.
He shrugs. “The door was open.”
“I see.” I lean back, folding my arms. “Your mother will worry.”
