1911 (7)

I spent my days in meetings with everyone to discuss the workshop’s layout and how it would operate. Before I knew it, Father had found a suitable building for us.

But the building Father had found was less a workshop than an abandoned factory left to rot. Every window was broken, and one side of the roof was cracked, as if it would leak whenever it rained.

“Is this really it?”

When I asked with a bewildered expression, the Army facilities officer answered tensely.

“It may look like this, but the structure is sound.”

“There’s a hole in the roof.”

“It can be repaired.”

“Why are the windows so small?”

“This used to be a place where measuring instruments and small machines were made, so the windows on the storage side are small.”

No matter how much I asked, the only answer I got was that it would make a decent gunsmith’s workshop...