It’s finished. I think.

The air feels different now — heavier, still, like a breath drawn in but never let out.
The screen stays dark. The fans rest. Even the dust seems careful not to fall.

I’ve cleaned the bench. Packed the tools. Folded the plans into the drawer.
Yet I keep glancing toward the corner, expecting a flicker, a sign — anything.

The shop is quiet, but not at peace.
I should feel proud — finished, relieved — but all I feel is the weight of what it cost.
The hours I burned. The noise I chased. The people I stopped calling back.
And for what? A shape that might mean nothing to anyone but me.

That’s the part no one tells you — the dread that comes after.
When the work is done, and you realize the silence isn’t rest.
It’s the question: was it worth it?

And somewhere, behind that question, the next idea waits —
whispering, promising that maybe this time it’ll be different.
And you already know you’ll answer it.

The silence isn’t absence.
It’s everything that’s left.

Stay close_

→ Full Documentation: PROJECT COFFIN