On Luka's desk sat a heavy white envelope.
"Jessica, who left this envelope."
No reply. Luka flipped the envelope over and saw a blue wax seal with the
crest of his father's family. His father had walked out when he was five.
Curious, he broke the seal and pulled out a handwritten letter. He fought to
understand the convoluted message. As he got to the end of the letter, he
began laughing manically.
Tragedy had struck the most evil man he'd ever met, and now the second
most evil man had inherited the millions.
He was rich.
About the Creator
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Grief in the Age of Flight
I float above the chrome and glass canyon, my personal drone humming its lonely tune beneath me. Below, the morning crowds surge through the boulevards, humans in their aerial pods, weaving between the towers like schools of metallic fish. I used to find it beautiful, this ballet of flight. Now it just feels empty.
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