Broken
There he stood. His life crumbling before him. One dream at a time. He had lost more money than hope. Hoping to earn more than he had lost. Anwar. Middle class origins. Classless ambition. A combination so lethal, you never knew which way it would bend. Failure was a friend. One who always showed up, no matter what the circumstances were. He wanted to be rich. Not to avoid unhappiness. That would be foolish. Unhappiness is like the appendix. You don’t need it, it does nothing for you, but poke it too much, and it can cause a world of pain. He figured that it’s better to be unhappy in a million dollar car, with a woman looking like a million bucks beside him. But these were dreams. Reality was vastly different. No money. No prospects. No idea. He was broken. Broken by the beaten path. To an extent, by his own ambitions. Damaged by a delusional future. And delusional about his damaged past. The future’s bare canvas staring at him with its empty eyes. And somehow, that scared him the most...