LoneTraveler
I Walk Alone
- Joined
- Feb 28, 2008
- Posts
- 103
A cold silence filled the doctor’s office as there stood Michael, completely at a loss for words as the doctor told Michael that he was dying. After that, it was white noise to him. At 32 years of age, Michael Young was born into a wealthy family of real estate investors. No doors were closed to him, any career he sought for could be his. But when his father passed and he received his inheritance, instead of working to gain more wealth, he spent his time helping others.
Years, he would spend helping various charities, finically aiding in medical operations for underfunded individuals; Michael had spend so long helping others that his personal life was almost not existent. No wife, no children, he was basically alone. Now after passing out at after visiting a patient at the hospital, Michael came to learn that he was sick.
“…. I’d would say you have less than 2 years….”
The words scraped in Michael’s brain as he sat in his home. All these years he spent helping other putting the need of so many people in front his own personal life and this was his reward. For days, Michael kept to himself, not speaking a word to anyone as he sat alone in his house. His fingers constantly running through his jet black hair as he was mixture of anger and heartache as he came to realization that he was alone.
There was so much more he wanted to do, and he was out of time. Maybe that why he was doing this what he was now. Michael looked out the widow at the street dressed in one of his nicer suits as he waited. Never in his life had he ever considered calling for an escort like so many silver spooned individuals, but with so little time he wanted the one thing he never had; even if it wasn’t truly real.
Years, he would spend helping various charities, finically aiding in medical operations for underfunded individuals; Michael had spend so long helping others that his personal life was almost not existent. No wife, no children, he was basically alone. Now after passing out at after visiting a patient at the hospital, Michael came to learn that he was sick.
“…. I’d would say you have less than 2 years….”
The words scraped in Michael’s brain as he sat in his home. All these years he spent helping other putting the need of so many people in front his own personal life and this was his reward. For days, Michael kept to himself, not speaking a word to anyone as he sat alone in his house. His fingers constantly running through his jet black hair as he was mixture of anger and heartache as he came to realization that he was alone.
There was so much more he wanted to do, and he was out of time. Maybe that why he was doing this what he was now. Michael looked out the widow at the street dressed in one of his nicer suits as he waited. Never in his life had he ever considered calling for an escort like so many silver spooned individuals, but with so little time he wanted the one thing he never had; even if it wasn’t truly real.