He took a sip of the drink.

He wasn't sure whether he liked it or not, but at this moment it didn't

matter. She had made it especially for him so he would have forced it down even if he had
absolutely hated it. That's simply the way things worked. She made him a new-fangled drink
each day and he took a sip of it and smiled, saying it was excellent.
There once lived an old man and an old woman who were peasants and had to work hard to
earn their daily bread. The old man used to go to fix fences and do other odd jobs for the
farmers around, and while he was gone the old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and
worked in their own little plot of land.
He looked at the sand. Picking up a handful, he wondered how many grains were in his hand.
Hundreds of thousands? "Not enough," the said under his breath. I need more.
The box sat on the desk next to the computer. It had arrived earlier in the day and business had
interrupted her opening it earlier. She didn't who had sent it and briefly wondered who it might
have been. As she began to unwrap it, she had no idea that opening it would completely change
her life.
He heard the crack echo in the late afternoon about a mile away. His heart started racing and
he bolted into a full sprint. "It wasn't a gunshot, it wasn't a gunshot," he repeated under his
breathlessness as he continued to sprint.
He walked down the steps from the train station in a bit of a hurry knowing the secrets in the
briefcase must be secured as quickly as possible. Bounding down the steps, he heard
something behind him and quickly turned in a panic. There was nobody there but a pair of old
worn-out shoes were placed neatly on the steps he had just come down. Had he past them
without seeing them? It didn't seem possible. He was about to turn and be on his way when a
deep chill filled his body.