Live long and prosper, said the man with the funny ears, holding his hand up in what I hope was not some vulgar sign, before he vanished before my eyes in a ray of what I can only describe as light of some supernatural kind.
Fifty years later, and I am still alive, while all my friends and family- those I was close kin to- have passed on.
I live in a beautiful large house- one that is almost a castle- bought with money I made by the sweat of my brow.
I have lived long, and I have prospered and continue to prosper, but to what end?
My life is shallow, hollow, incomplete.
If the man ever comes back, I will tell him to change his parting words. I think something along the lines of “Be happy” would be most appropriate.
Day 76: Write the story of your grandparents (fiction/non-fiction)