The Lights are on but Nobodies Home

Paul couldn't focus. Too many things whirred through his mind. The newspaper declared the Neuman fortunes to be inherited as the company's owner... Paul's father took a turn for the worst and died sooner than anyone expected.

The first thought that Neuman thought of was getting back home quickly to receive the inheritance and carry the legacy. To work to his new position and take his rightful place after this mind boggling ordeal. Yet something in Paul made the idea seem week... made Neuman seem week. This only seemed to resolve as Paul pulled softly on his collar as if feeling tagged with new fate.

There was no way to get home. The Jaguar may be able to run, but it was no match for the sheer mileage that removed him from his comfort place, his workplace. By the time Paul had read half the article he stopped dead, reading something he wish he hadn't. "In the instance that Neuman's heir is nowhere to be found, the company's and Neuman's personal attorney will temporarily direct it in their capable hands." Without warning the lights flicked on.

A line formed and a million kinds of alluring and intoxicating aromas filled the air, the power restored. Paul sat there sapped. There was no way to get home. No way to contact home. And no one who would know where he is, let alone care where he is. This was their plan all along, father probably didn't even have a learning experience in mind. Now the Neuman fortune is secured in the hands of theives. This couldn't have happened. There needs to be justice, there needs to be closure. Paul felt slightly uncomfortable at this realization. The revelation that the Neuman name no longer existed.

Paul walked sullenly out of the dinner having smelled his favorite apple pie. Yet it seemed that nothing would save such a shell. Not even sweets would brighten this sad change. He felt like a broken man, in wallet, in spirit, and in desire. He could not reconcile this future, he could not pitch a new deal, work with fate as a client, expand his resources. He could not contemplate what was next. What was to fix something like this? He thought back on his Rushdie. To be born again first you must die...