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The following summer, on a beautiful sun-washed day when the clouds kept away in fear of being unwelcome, Aldo was busy working in the shop, sketching out ideas at his drafting table. Kahn stirred from his morning nap, barked and ran out one of the large overhead doors. Kahn’s departure was followed shortly after by “Howdy, partner!”. Aldo turned around to find Jonas walking into the shop.

“The place looks great,” he said, wandering around and inspecting the finished product. “Well done.”

“Thanks. It’s proven to be the perfect workspace for me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Jonas while toying with a small concept model. “I want to take you somewhere real quick to show you something,” he continued, skipping over the formalities expected when two people reconnect after a period of time.

“Right now?”

“Yeah,” Jonas shrugged in response.

“Give me a few minutes to finish this sketch.”

“Take your time.” Jonas proceeded to quietly look around the shop, pick up and set down study models, finger material studies, and closely observe color boards, all that Aldo had put together over the spring and winter.

When Aldo had finished, they both got in Jonas’ car and drove around the lake. They passed the house Jonas stayed in the previous summer and continued on, circumnavigating the lake. Jonas pulled off on a narrow dirt road that cut through a densely wooded area. The road eventually terminated at a clearing, where they exited the car.

“What do you think?” Jonas asked. “I just bought this lot!”

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Winter arrived sooner than expected that year. The shop was ready for it though. Windows and doors were installed along with the metal roof, soffits, and siding, all before the first snow came. Aldo was able to work on the interior through that cold, building desks and work stations and storage cabinets throughout. The boulder, he wrapped with an “L” shaped drafting table where much of his concept designs would be done.

A path had to be carved frequently through the waist deep snow from the lake house to the shop. The surrounding area remained silent that winter, the snow acting like sound attenuating insulation across the hillside, absorbing any frequencies that attempted to travel across it. And the days there would transition between light snowfall to pounding blizzards that would white out any visibility and then to days of beautiful sun where the reflection off the glistening sheets of white were enough to blind.

Aldo was able to move all his tools and materials into the shop that winter, leaving the shipping container empty to collect snow until the spring. He spent most of the snowy season experimenting and honing his craft. Real clients and real projects were yet to exist for him, though he was confident something would turn up but didn’t really know how it would when he was living in a remote location. No one knew where he was or how to contact him, still, Aldo knew a project would come his way before long.

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Conversation over dinner was amiable and easy. Jonas proved to be quite charismatic and more than capable of carrying most of the exchange with stories of his travel, architecture he had seen and liked, architecture he had seen and disliked, what he thought of the state of the city, and on and on. As the night was winding down he broke from his narrative to ask Aldo how long he had owned the lake house.

“Not for long.” Aldo replied. “It is a recent inheritance. From my wife.” He paused for a moment as that thought had crashed in to him. He had done well, for the most part, without relating the lake house to his deceased wife very often and the reminder that this was supposed to be theirs together hit hard. “And she inherite it not long before from her father. We hadn’t known about the house prior to my father in-law’s passing.”

Jonas frowned at the news. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he said. And doing his all to keep the mood from souring further he deftly steered the talk elsewhere. “It’s a beautiful property. I’ve been renting my spot every year for the last few years, late summer into fall. There is just something about this place that, that, I don’t know. Believe it or not, I have a hard time expressing it in words. There is just a presence up here that resets me. Whenever I leave, whether I spent a day or three months here, I feel confident that whatever I touch when I go back will turn out right. If that makes sense?” Aldo understood ful well the feeling Jonas was describing.

The two cleaned up after dinner and Kahn did his part by licking the plates. “I leave next week. Jonas informed Aldo upon his departure. “I’ll be back next summer and will be sure to come say hi and check in on your project.”

They shook hands and Jonas patted Kahn on the head. Aldo thanked him again for the help and they parted ways, for the time being.

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Jonas arrived to the workshop early the next morning. Kahn yipped and ran out to meet him. Aldo greeted him and took him into the shop to show off what he had been working on.

“This will be a nice workspace,” Jonas commented while gazing around at the interior of the shop. “I like the boulder also, its a nice touch in here.”

Aldo thanked him promptly and was grateful Jonas didn’t pry into why the boulder remained in the shop. That question was one that he feared would be asked and he didn’t yet have an answer to it.

Jonas left it as a compliment and asked, “Shall we get started?” rubbing the palms of his hands together.

The two of them spent the better part of the day lifting the heavy, linear windows into place. Aldo then meticulously installed them and tested their operability. Kahn laid around outside the shop the entire day, monitoring their progress.

After the last window was installed, they stood silently looking at the shop and admiring their work. From where they stood they could see straight through the shop, through openings on the east and west walls where large roll-up doors would soon go, down to the lake and even make out a glimpse of Jonas’ house.

Jonas had been admiring that view through the shop when Aldo broke the silence, offering dinner, “I caught a few trout this week which I’ve been meaning to grill if you’d like to stay for dinner?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jonas said with a broad smile, bringing his attention back to where they were.

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The man who answered the door was of average height, with short, cropped black hair. He had dark eyes that were deep set with a gaze that was difficult to hold for too long without feeling slightly uneasy. A crooked nose on the center of his face suggested a scrappy youth. He was dressed in exercise clothes that hugged an athletic form. When he came to the door he was sweating and short of breath.

“I live across the lake,” Aldo said in greeting. “I’ve been working on a shop on my property.”

“Oh, you are directly across from me. I’ve been watching that thing go up all summer. How’s it coming along?” the man inquired cordially.

“It’s just fine. Had its share of setbacks and surprises.”

“Which is to be expected.” Added the man.

“Right.” Aldo wasn’t sure how to carry on.

“So, what can I do you for?” He said, lending Aldo a hand.

Aldo appreciated the assistance, having never een strong conversationaly or socialy for that matter. Asking for anything whether it be a helping hand or simple advice was even more difficult for him. The level of independence he held required him to mostly rely on himself and made any level of vulnerability difficult. Additionally, he hated the thought of being an imposition on others.

“Well,” Aldo continued, “you see, I’ve hit a snag on the shop. I’ve been able to construct most of it on my own. I hit a wall when it came to the windows. I haven’t been able to lift them into place due to their weight. I was hoping to ask for your help. Lifting the windows that is. If it isn’t any trouble?”

“No trouble at all,” replied the man, “glad to help.

“You sure? I’d hate to put you out in any way.”

“Really, it’s no problem. Should we go knock it out right now?” the man enthusiastically suggested.

“No, no. It’s getting late.” Aldo said. “And I’ve seemed to have interrupted your evening already. How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow it is. I’ll be over in the morning.”

“Thank you.” Aldo said as he turned to leave.

“It’s Jonas. By the way.” Aldo turned around to find the mans hand extended towards him.

“Oh, right. Aldo.”

They shook hands amicably, Jonas’ grip a little too firm.

“See you in the morning.” Said Jonas.

“See you then.”

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Many of the properties that surrounded the lake were vacation rentals which families would lease for a short duration to use up half their vacation time they had saved up for the year. It was getting closer to autumn and less of the properties were occupied as most childeren where back in school and less people made it out to the lake. Aldo though had noticed lights on at night in a home across the lake from his and assumed someone was still around.

When the replacement window finally arrived, Aldo made a trip around the lake early in the evening to search for the home across from his. From the road, he could see most of the lake houses that he drove by. They were dark and closed to the world around them, knowing they were to abandoned for another season. When he did find the house it was easy to pick out, all the lights were on inside casting beams of light to the surrounding yard. It was a modest home, small in size with probably only enough space for one or two people. Old wood siding with paint peeling and flaking enclosed the entire exterior. A rusty metal roof sat atop the walls and announced the age of the building. A wrap-around porch continued to the back side of the house and formed a large balcony that overhung the hillside with broad views of the lake. Aldo parked his car and from where he sat he could see his lake house across the water and the nearly complete workshop beyond that.

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Through all those dreams and through the time spent working on the shop, Aldo developed a healthy level of respect and admiration for the boulder. He never feared it, though it tended to be the primary actor in many of his more ominous dreams and it always seemed to spook Kahn. After all, dreams are just dreams, and the boulder is just a boulder.

The workshop walls were framed and raised into place. He built in the rafters, collar ties, and ridge beam all himself, and followed those with the more tedious task of cross bracing all that framing. Over two day’s time, he was able to tack on all the sheathing and roof decking. On a third day, he layered on the shop weather barrier. The large clerestory windows arrived shortly after and at that point all the corrugated metal roofing was installed above.

Aldo rigged together a pulley system that would allow him to lift the heavy windows up to their eight-foot sill and install them himself. The pulley worked like a charm on the first window. When he moved it to place another, the pulley toppled over from the weight of the window, shattering the glass and mangling the frame. He wouldn’t risk that happening again. Breaking one window would already set him back in his progress. He resolved to find help installing the remainder of the glazing.

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Those dreams varied in form and duration and complexity. Sometimes the boulder would speak to him, not audibly, but the words would be placed in his mind and the only visual aspect of these dreams was the boulder with a bright white background. Many times the dreams would be every day scenes of him working in his shop near the boulder or out at client meetings and there the boulder is with them. Other times the dreams would take on nightmarish states with scenes of fire, destruction, and blood, and the boulder was there in the midst of it all, stolid and undisturbed.

Aldo went and saw a therapist about the dreams, thinking he was not completely or properly dealing with the death of Sheila, and the therapist merely reiterated his thoughts. It wasn’t that the dreams were disrupting his quality or amount of sleep, no, he felt rested and energetic every morning. It was that he had never experienced such repetition in his dreams before. One thing the therapist suggested, that Aldo did put into practice, was documenting his dreams in detail, in a journal. That didn’t necessarily eliminate or lessen the frequency of the dreams, which would only happen after the workshop was finished. Journaling the dreams simply aided his memory in recalling the details of them and helped him to start picking out patterns and repeating themes. As time went on and with it the reappearance of the boulder in his sleep state, Aldo didn’t think the dreams were caused by his grief or inability to grieve over Sheila because she wouldn’t appear in all of them, but only the one scene of her in their car.

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Construction on the workshop progressed steadily. Girders needed to be set around the boulder to support the floor joists there, which was something Aldo had not originally planned for. The floor joists were installed without any hiccups and he began to lay the floor decking.

The base of the boulder was becoming enclosed as the floor deck boards were cut to a precise length and angle where they almost butted right up against the stone when set in place. Once all the decking was installed, the boulder was wrapped with the lumber and looked as if it had a flat bottom and sat directly on the floor. Aldo would begin work the next day on the wall framing.

It was the very night the floor was finished when he began having dreams that would reoccur and last throughout the construction and occasionally they would come up again once the shop was complete. These dreams always involved the boulder in some fashion. The most memorable of these dreams was one that repeated night and night again. This particular dream always involved his wife, Sheila, in their car, pounding on the glass with an open palm, screaming at Aldo, begging him to help her. His feet were glued in place and he was hopeless as he watched the scene unfold. This dream varied in one detail, sometimes the boulder was rolling towards the car, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, in other instances it was falling from the sky rapidly, and others at a pace, gravity would disapprove of. Every time though, the dream would conclude with him being released from where he was held in place just before the boulder would crush the car with Sheila in it, jolting him awake.

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The dog became Aldo’s shadow, that day and every day after. It didn’t seem to belong to anyone else. Perhaps it was left or forgotten by a family on vacation at the lake, perhaps it had been born an orphan here in the woods. The dog was soon known by the name Kahn, as Aldo needed some way to address it and he felt that name fit the dog’s demeanor. The dog soon began to accept the name and respond when spoken to. It did not take long before Aldo let the dog stay inside the lake house. They both gratefully welcomed the company.

The morning Aldo returned to work on the workshop when approaching the building site, Kahn began to growl and bear his teeth in warning. The dog bolted ahead and jumped into the pit, barking and maniacally lunging at the boulder. Aldo hurried over to calm the dog and let him know it was okay. Aldo patted the boulder in show, saying “See? Harmless”, but Kahn didn’t believe him. Kahn even tried grabbing Aldo by the pant leg and pulling him away from the boulder, trying to protect him. Aldo did all he could to shrug it off and ignore the unnecessary aggressive behavior toward a rock, calling Kahn a crazy dog, but the same scene repeated daily the moment they reached the workshop until Kahn would wear himself out. Aldo even attempted to lay food at the base of the boulder and around it to give the boulder a positive association, but the dog wouldn’t approach the food, although, the food was always gone by the end of the day. Kahn must’ve eaten it when Aldo wasn’t watching.