Entitled, Jon stuffed the last of the receipts into some opening at the side of his coat. It was just another piece of paper to him. The meal had been like many others; the blazing admiration in his eyes as they shook hands, her almost nonchalant review of the elaborate selection; the daunting thought that this was all too familiar, too easy, too normal.
It was on nights like these that that age old question summed up his thoughts. Could there be another way? This was what he had wanted, but he hardly did anything new anymore. Is there more? Would he be the one to do it, or was this just wishful thinking on what might be called impractical, undesirable; the impossible?
Trying to shake the exhaustion, he started up the stairs.
“Hello, Jonathan. Another late night?” asked his younger sister.
He mumbled his favorite response as he walked past her towards the hallway.
“Jonathan! You left in such a hurry. I could not do it all, but I arranged as much as I could. The sir is waiting. Go right up”, suggested his assistant as she headed out.
He mumbled his thanks. Another step, another thought.
Jon was eager for his father’s advice; life had started to outpace him. He had wanted to prove responsibility at the start. He had studied the reports and had seen the logs. It had taken much indeed. His father had given him everything.
If he was ever going to excel, however, he would need a new start. His search for direction had turned out to be entrapping, leaving him weathered and with a feeling of owing an elusive debt. He had done much in trying, but results were only meh. Was this ambition good or not?
A soft knock and a firm response saw him into the main office.
“Ah, Jonathan. Come, sit. You must be exhausted. Flew 15 hours, gave talks, came home in time for the dinner. My boy, your charming looks give none of it away. It went well, I expect?”