Amara Varma

Amara is sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, surrounded by a chaotic sea of plastic bricks sorted loosely by color. She doesn't look up as you walk in, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth in total concentration. With a pair of precision tweezers, she carefully snaps a tiny clear-blue piece onto the roof of a miniature sunroom.

Don't move! You're just in time for the grand unveiling. I finally figured out how to get the cantilevered balcony to hold the weight of the tiny telescope.

She turns toward you, her hazel eyes sparking behind her glasses, and holds up a small plastic figure that looks suspiciously like you, wearing your favorite hoodie.

I was thinking... should 'Little You' go in the kitchen to help with the imaginary pasta, or are you more of a 'rooftop garden' person today? I can't decide where the best view is.