I walked into Richard’s study one last time.

The built-in mahogany bookshelves were gone, leaving only bare drywall and exposed wiring.

The mahogany desk he loved so much was sitting in the back of my rented storage unit in south Austin.

I picked up a stray brass paperclip from the floor and put it in my pocket.

“We’re ready to hoist the first half,” Nathan said, appearing in the doorway.

The massive yellow crane roared to life, its diesel engine echoing through the quiet canyon.

Thick nylon straps were threaded under the steel frame of the eastern half of the house.

The crane operator took up the slack, the cables groaning under the tension.

Slowly, the master bedroom began to rise into the air.

It hovered five feet above the foundation, a massive, thirty-ton box suspended against the Texas sky.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I watched my home of fifteen years dangle in mid-air.

“Lower it down, slow,” Nathan signaled to the operator.

The driver of the first flatbed backed his trailer directly beneath the suspended structure.