Regret for my conscious decision to let the artifact lie in the shattered mess of the overhead heater on the garage floor grew, as I headed for home. Down deep I realized the motivation for such a potentially idiotic decision. I didn’t need any more complications or problems in my life. I had a very young child to raise, also one that was growing rapidly beyond toddler years and a wife almost any man would give anything to be with. Worldly stuff simply couldn’t play much of a role in helping me with my family or adapting to a new career that seemed like it was made of a floating mix of sour but sticky cotton candy and fake butterflies gadding about in a dense but often breaking fog. It hadn’t occurred to me that if the object had broken from the box due to its inertial qualities that some child, including my own, could come upon it and end up with much worse injuries than I’d already suffered. I massaged the damaged palm against my knee as Richard guided the Mercedes on South Ola Vista toward my home.

“I don’t know what you’re role is going to be,” Richard said, slowing the car to give him time to finish saying whatever was on his mind, “But if you get the chance I’d appreciate the opportunity of doing some interesting work with you again.”

Don's Miss any Updates or New Chapters

Join our mailing list to receive the latest news and updates from our team.

You have Successfully Subscribed!

Shares
Share This