The Future of the Honest
“Are you mad!” I screamed.
“Brother, think of the money. Our business. Our posterity.”
“Think of the jail time!” Good thing my office had thick, tinted glass walls. Our new employees couldn’t hear my cry from their stations. Still, I quieted.
The Weakness of a Businessman
It was a Thursday, fall of 1985. Lassitude overcame my will to keep working on the financials. I leaned back in my seat, taking in the view of Vermont at midnight. City lights glittered on the horizon through the large window pane and dazzled the spotless beige walls of my strip mall office. Great origins always began in humble places. That’s what dad said anyway.
He’d immigrated to America from Romania and started his life in the hills of Vermont. He thought himself Hephaestus, a Greek god who worked tirelessly in forges. His love of Greek mythology inspired my name, Hermes. One look in my eyes and he knew I was going to revolutionize trade between countries. What that eerily specific dream looks like, I have no idea.
The Hermit of the Sea
The harbor bustled with activity as Matthew pushed his way to the ships. Steel hulls bobbed in the water, men scurrying to unload cargo while more shipments were passed to them. A constant cycle of work.
Matt smoothed his blond hair, feeling out of place amidst the mangy, scruffy, muscle-bulging sailors. He walked along the sea-stained boards into the fog, yelling, “Excuse me! Do you know a Caldwell? Hermes Caldwell?”
A man with tattoos across his face made eye contact. “The anchorite?”