The office buzzed with low, focused energy when I returned. The kind that meant something big was brewing — or, in this case, being wrapped up.
A new sticky note was already waiting on my desk in Adrien's sharp handwriting:
"Welcome back. Don't limp."
Classic.
By 7:53, I'd cleared twenty-two emails, updated the shared files, and rescheduled a vendor delivery without dropping a single expletive. Progress.
The buzz in the office was unmistakable. The Johnson Proposal — the billion-dollar mall that had consumed our lives for months — was finally entering its last phase. Construction was done.
But perfection? That was still under construction.
My inbox was a small disaster, but the last email I opened said it all:
Subject: Johnson Proposal — Final Phase Checklist
The construction was complete.
