LIAM
Standing before the massive floor-to-ceiling glass window, I gripped the scotch glass so tightly that I feared it might shatter in my hand. My jaw was set so firmly that it ached. The view outside was wasted on me; all I could see was the chaos consuming the project I had poured everything into.
How had it come to this? First, it was the endless struggle to secure funding, a battle that had drained me mentally and financially. And just when I thought that hurdle was behind me—when the funds were finally in place and the materials were on their way—it felt as though the universe had conspired to throw every conceivable obstacle in my path. Now, all I was getting was excuse after excuse, each more infuriating than the last.
