Mari lugs two heavy suitcases into the office and heaves them into the corner. “Where’s yours?” she asks me.

I point to a half-filled garbage bag.

“That’s all you got?”

“I’ve never done this before.”

Pass the grissini and listen carefully…

Right now I’m the only person who matters in your world, understand?

Not your wife, Meredith. Not your son, Dylan. Not your part-time server, Anushka, who you found on Nextdoor and pay five bucks an hour plus tips—nice touch, transferring the cost to your guests in a passive aggressive masquerading as a virtue kinda way. Cute. Super-millennial.

The old man leapt up from his desk and confronted me. “You weren’t trying to resuscitate me, were you?” He demanded. “Everyone’s trying to resuscitate me,” he went on, shouting and drawing attention to himself. Eyes turned to me since I was the one getting reamed out. “Can’t a man keel over at his desk and fall lifeless to the floor without a bunch of damn do-gooders and screwball Samaritans bothering him?”

Ricardo stared at Lavanda as she struggled to place the cap on his Styrofoam cup. He marveled at her beauty. Her eyes captivated him the most. Behind her unnaturally long eyelashes were dark blue irises that gave off vibes of equal parts wonder, confusion, and naivety with a pinch of mischief. At times, Lavanda reminded Ricardo of a lost puppy, a very attractive lost puppy.

I ruled as far as the eye could see, providing you didn’t stand on any hills. From my people’s ringfort above the confluence of waters, I succored my beloved subjects and scourged my— “Oh mom, look at this! Gross!” Listen here, kid. Like you’ll look any better after two millennia, presuming you survive that long.

[continue reading…]