Source A: The station on Mercer Street

An original contemporary non-fiction-style practice text, written for this question.

At the public meeting, the council’s plan arrived on a neat sheet of paper: the old fire station on Mercer Street would become a private fitness studio. The building had been empty for years. Its red doors, once rolled open for engines, were now chained shut. A new use, the officer said, would bring the place back to life.

From the back row, Mrs Patel raised a hand. Her repair group met in a borrowed room above a shop, where the stairs were too steep for some of its older members. “We mend kettles, toys, chairs,” she said. “People bring more than broken things.” The room quietened. The officer looked down at his notes.

Then a man in a running jacket stood. He worked nearby and welcomed the proposal. A studio would open early and stay open late, he said; the street would have more people on it, and the building would no longer be a locked shell. His argument was practical, not heartless. For a moment, I pictured the station lit from within, its doors open again.

But the council’s sheet had a blank space where the price of membership should have been. When I asked about it, the officer said the details were still being discussed. The word “accessible” had appeared twice in his presentation. It had not yet acquired a figure.

On my way out, I passed the chained doors again. The building could be busy and still keep people out. That was the question the meeting had left hanging: not whether Mercer Street needed a future, but who would be able to enter it.