Restless.
The magnifient view from his manhattan penthouse did not soothe him, nor did it please him. The best money could buy felt as inadequate as if it were of shelled out filthy hovels.
Many men would kill to have what he had, a triplex situated on the tiered top of a premier buliding it was the height of luxury with the empire state building and other magnifient real estates gracing the skyline. Behind him the dark parquet floor that graced most of the place was covered by a splendid oriental carpet in earth tones. Dark antique furniture blended well with tasteful ultra modern seats to create a warm lived in look. To his right, between the living room and the dining room was an oak and stained glass bar that could be accessed from either room, the one place he patronised when he was here.
He hated the overpriced, well appointed showpiece. It was too big for a single man, a place for a family, but he had none. Had he any brains he would sell the place yet he never could. He craved it as much as he hated it, his sanctuary when he felt adrift as he did now. No one would disturb him here, they had since learned not to try and contact him in any way until he came out. Aside from the neccessary staff he never allowed anyone here and the staff knew not to disturbed the position of even the smallest thing. He needed everything as it was, to hold on to the dream that was gone just a little longer.
Gulping down the remainder of his whiskey, he relished the burn that traced from the back of his throat to the base of his stomach. It reminded him he was alive in a world that had lost its allure against the deadness he felt every waking hour.
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