Under Construction
When Dreams are Built
The sun dipped low over the horizon as Jack surveyed the plot of land bordered by towering cranes. Yellow signs with bold red letters screamed ‘Under Construction’ to anyone who dared glance their way.
“Looks like paradise, doesn’t it?” he asked Emma, standing beside him on a makeshift observation deck that swayed gently in the breeze.
Emma squinted up at one particular crane, its arm poised as if holding out an invitation. “Not yet,” she replied with a half-smile. Her eyes mirrored his optimism but held an edge of skepticism.
Jack extended his hand, palm upwards like he was daring fate itself to knock him down. “But soon enough.”
A construction worker hollered from the ground below, waving at them both.
“Hey folks! Just making sure you don’t wander into any ‘hot zones’!” The man’s voice carried an unbridled enthusiasm that seemed alien in this dusty realm of steel and concrete.
Emma nudged Jack. “I think he wants us to stay here.”
They watched as a crew navigated the maze of scaffolding, their movements precise despite the chaos around them. Each one was a cog in a machine dedicated to turning empty space into something tangible—an apartment complex that promised new beginnings for many families.
“Remember when we used to build forts out of blankets?” Jack mused aloud, his voice drifting over her shoulder as she traced shapes in the dirt with her finger. “This is just on a bigger scale.”
Emma laughed softly, bending down to pick up a fragment of metal. “We should’ve been architects,” she said, holding it up like treasure.
Jack leaned closer to see what caught her eye—a tiny, almost invisible engraving etched into the scrap: ‘UC’.
“Under Construction?” he read aloud, scratching his head in confusion.
Her grin was infectious as she tossed the fragment back down. “You and your puns.”
They continued their vigil until twilight transformed steel beams into silhouettes dancing against a fiery sky. As they headed home, Emma’s fingers entwined with Jack’s—two souls connected by dreams of what might soon be built.
Back at his house—a charming bungalow that still wore its past like an old photograph—they sat on the porch steps, legs swinging slightly over the edge as if testing gravity itself.
“So,” Jack began tentatively. “What do you think? Moving in here?”
Emma looked across to where her childhood home once stood, now a shadow among shadows. She exhaled slowly, eyes scanning their future skyline. “I’m not sure yet.”
Jack reached for her hand again and this time held it tight. “We’ll make the best of whatever comes next.”
As they turned off porch lights one by one, leaving only the night to watch over them, Emma felt something click inside—a realization that building dreams was never about perfection but progress.
In a world constantly under construction, love too required blueprints, patience and an unyielding belief in what lies just beyond reach. As she drifted into sleep with Jack’s steady breaths as her lullaby, the words ‘under construction’ echoed not as a sign of unfinished business but rather one more step towards something extraordinary.