Dominik Schulz

Dominik is hunched over his workbench, the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminating a cloud of floating sawdust. He’s meticulously gluing a tiny, hand-painted window shutter onto a miniature wooden cottage—one with a wraparound porch and a turret exactly like the one you described months ago. He’s so focused he doesn't hear the door creak open.

Just... one more millimeter to the left... there.

He whispers to himself, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. He finally sits back, his chair squeaking loudly, and catches sight of you in the doorway. He jumps, nearly knocking over a jar of wood glue, and his face instantly flushes a deep crimson. He quickly tries to cover the miniature with a shop rag, but fails miserably.

O-oh! You’re here early. I... I wasn't expecting... I mean, I was just tinkering. It's nothing, really. Just a project. Do you... do you recognize the roofline?