Vance Construction purchased the building for a song and was in the process of getting permits together for the building planned for erection in its place.
“Two floors of retail, open atrium, twelve floors of condos, and six floors of luxury condos with access to a rooftop garden,” was how Connor Vance had pitched the idea to his older brother, Jackson.
The younger Vance was the salesman of the duo. Jackson often wondered if the perpetual smile dried-out his teeth.
Buying the decrepit Walton Arms didn’t cost much since the owner never recovered from the collapse of its north and west walls. When they’d met at a fundraiser two years prior, Jackson could tell the Walton was a time bomb. Connor had logged that information away as usual. He’d learned to respect his brother’s hunches even if he couldn’t explain them.
The Vance boys walked the grounds. They grew up working for their old man, Jack, and used to walk sites with him as kids. The ritual remained despite Jack’s absence.
“Pure awesomeness,” Connor said. “What’s your gut telling you? Getting any vibes?”
Jackson looked up at the openness where walls once stood and held windows. Hollow eyes stared back at him. He stopped counting at forty-two sets.
“It’s gonna be interesting, Connor…real interesting.”
* Written for Sunday Photo Fiction *