Margit reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out a napkin and a Sharpie. She sets them both in front of me, deliberate. "Then what are you waiting for?"
I pick up the Sharpie.
For a second, I just stare at the blank napkin. Then I write in big block letters:GO!
Priya's watching over my shoulder. "That's it? Just 'go'?"
"Harbor District got full approval," I say. "We call it a Go/No Go decision."
Liv reaches across and taps the napkin. "Then yeah. That works."
I slide out of the booth, napkin in one hand, Sharpie in the other. The wall is behind the register, covered in years of pinned moments. Business cards, photos, torn napkin corners with dates and initials and inside jokes I'll never understand.
I pin the napkin first. The pushpin goes in smooth, right next to a Polaroid of a couple kissing in front of the Donut's window.
Then I reach into my wallet.
Tom's business card is tucked behind an expired MetroCard, edges slightly bent from being carried around for months. I pull it out, smooth the corner with my thumb.
I pin it next to the napkin.
Step back.
Margit's standing next to me now, arms folded, looking at the wall. "He's a good one, isn't he?"
"Yeah," I say. "He is."
***
The apartment is quiet when I get home. I drop my bag by the door, toe off my shoes, leave them where they land instead of lining them up on the rack.
The apartment is quiet when I get home…
My kitchen table holds the Architectural League Prize application, the one award I’ve chased since architecture school, and a stack of unopened mail.
I've been avoiding it.
I pull out the chair, sit down, open my laptop. The screen glows to life. I navigate to the Prize portal, log in, stare at the blank submission form.
I start typing.
I fill in the basics. Attach the files.
The narrative statement section sits empty at the bottom of the form.
I close my eyes for a second. Picture the Harbor District site at dusk, the way the light catches the glass facade Tom fought me on, the loading zone that became an intentional gathering point instead of a logistics problem.
I type:Good design makes people want to stay.
Leave it.
Keep going.
Forty minutes later, the form is complete. Every field filled. Every document uploaded. The cursor hovers over the blue SUBMIT button.
I press SUBMIT.
The page refreshes. A confirmation message appears:Your application has been received.
