You find yourself back at the beginning, watching what you thought was secure slip through your fingers. A sudden gust of wind stirs up dust in the quiet of your storeroom, and there, among the cobwebs, lies a blueprint of something never quite finished, something that might change everything. The weight of it all is making your foundation shake.
Your desk is littered with discarded papers, each one representing a different path not taken. A faint smell of paint and ink wafts up from the floor as if someone has been painting over the cracks that threaten to open wide between your carefully constructed ambitions.