From afar, the warehouse seemed as normal as any other in the district. Tall shelves filled with steel supplies of all shapes and sizes. But inside, the air was electric. Among the towering piles of steel, Joe Steelberg walked his own world, a place where steel wasn’t just a material, but something… alive.
He’d tried to resist the pull of the warehouse, but in the end, he couldn’t stay away. Despite parting with the miraculous steel the day before, he found himself standing before it again.
“Today feels different. Something in the air is calling me. Ah, there you are. Unassuming amidst your brethren, but I can tell. You have that special aura around you. You’re not just one of those ordinary steel beams made by regular businesses selling steel supplies near Melbourne. No, you are more.
Look at that refined edge, that perfect symmetry. It’s not your size that sets you apart. No, it’s your essence. Who touched you last? A builder? An architect? They couldn’t have understood you, not like I do. They couldn’t comprehend the depth of your potential.
It’s your precision, your meticulously crafted form, the work of the finest Melbourne steel fabricators. You’ve been created with such craftsmanship, attention to detail that speaks of quality. Yes, that’s it. You’re not merely cut and moulded; you’re artistically crafted, your potential yet to be realised.
Jealousy bubbles up within me at the thought of another person laying claim to you, misunderstanding your potential, mistreating your finely hewn edges. They can’t have you. They won’t. Only I can offer you the life you truly deserve. A life of reverence, of respect, of appreciation. I make you a promise, my steel; I won’t let anyone else have you. I’ll protect you with every ounce of my being.”
His hand gently grazed over the surface of the steel, a soft smile playing on Joe Steelberg’s lips. There was a unique kind of satisfaction in his eyes, the look of a man who had found a piece of himself within these walls.