The building was quite overwhelming, they thought, unsure of the direction to take. Most of its surroundings were covered in green grass, the beginnings of a garden dawning timidly. The new building was the talk of the town and most people felt irresistibly and inexplicably drawn to the place.
A lean, stern-looking middle-aged man peered through the window from the top floor. “The populace, here they are, like busy bees,” he said to himself.
The little bees didn’t know it yet, but as in every town before this, he would draw the life out of them and move on. Well, he would be kicked out of town, to be more precise, with threats of being impaled and burnt in the fire.
He didn’t mind. He always left a thank you behind, a palace of brobdingnagian dimensions.