The first structural column did not snap cleanly; the reinforced concrete, cured with brackish bay water thirty years ago during the harbor's first construction cycle, disintegrated under the sheer, vertical shear of the settling roof. A blinding shower of grey lime dust and dried horsehair plaster rained down across the slate table, instantly coating the melted zinc matrix in a dull, chalky shroud.
The heat radiating up through the floorboards was no longer a gentle, localized warmth. It was a dry, choking oven draft that smelled of roasted copper, boiling battery acid, and the sweet, metallic tang of vaporized lead.
