The Architect of Distance

Marcus Blake stood at the head of the glass walled boardroom on the 47th floor. His reflection fractured

across windows that framed downtown San Francisco like a conquered territory. He carried his six-foot-three

frame with the coiled precision of a man who controls everything. His slate gray eyes calculated net worth

before learning names, silver threading his dark hair like early frost.

Measured, emphasizing power and wealth. Beyond the glass, the city sprawled

beneath October fog. Thousands of lives reduced to miniature ambition from this

height. People small as insects. Their struggles invisible from his

carefully constructed distance. He'd built this view through ruthless pattern recognition.