Chapitre 1: Youngsters, I tell you
Early morning, inside the elevator of an old office...
"The weather today sure is nice, right dear?" A tiny and old lady asked, this one barely capable of seeing who it was that she was talking to.
"It sure is, Mrs. Dubose." Regardless, the man still replied, a faint smile adorning his face. Inside, however, none of such calm and respectful demeanor was to be seen.
'17 years for this,' He thought, once more falling into the deep pits that were his mind, 'Studying like a dog, working my ass off to always be the top of my class... and now, I've gotta work to man-childs that never had to struggle a single day in their lives.'
"Such nice weather, it reminds me of my grandchildren..." He tuned out Mrs. Dubose in the background, only replying when asked for input; such is one of many skills he came to appreciate ever since starting his business career.
'Don't sell yourself to a public office - they said. Don't sell yourself short, working for the government will only limit your growth - they said. Ha, my ass,' He shook his head resolutely, a deep feeling of regret worming its way inside, 'I shouldn't have listened."
"Oh, that boy... such a troublemaker, always coming back home full of bruises-"
'A public job in the government should be easily within my capabilities. The benefits and stability are worth the slow progress... still, such a dumbass... wanting to become a CEO without bigwigs as relatives.'
"I'm sure you know how it is with them kids-"
"How stupid can you be?" He said out loud, oblivious to the surroundings. Perhaps his skills were getting rusty. Either that or the stress was finally catching up to him.
Thankfully, however, the squeaky elevator finally stopped at its destination, opening its doors to the-
"Dear?" The old lady asked out of shock.
The man gave her no mind though, head on autopilot as he stepped out of the elevator while grumbling about resigning and applying for a public position.
The senile woman could only squint her eyes as the rude young man walked out of her vision, only to seemingly disappear as his figure fell through the ?floor. Was that a scream she's heard?
CRUNCH*
... Nah, must be her imagination.
"These youngsters, I tell you." She shook her head as the doors closed, putting on her glasses to push the button for her floor.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
moon_sugar
moon_sugar Any thoughts? Comments? Kudos- wait, wrong site...
I'm lonely.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
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