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Riches Promised

The treed avenue held an air of bleakness in the depths of winter, bare branches like broken fingers stretched into the overcast sky, the trees grey bark and dirty snow laying on the ground added to the sadness Sinclair felt. He walked with his head down, avoiding melting ice and the deposits of dogs left by irresponsible owners. This week, this month had passed in solemn despair as he fell into a depression. There was nothing he could do now, there was no changing the outcome – Celeste was gone, now and forever.


He trudged toward home not looking where he was going just knowing the path well. An everyday event for years, to and from work, his route never changing. He’d crossed his arms in an attempt to keep the cold at bay. His nose dripped and he wiped it on his coat sleeve. If anyone passed him, he did not acknowledge them. In his depressed state everyone looked happy and that just made him sadder and angry. As he turned the key in the front door lock, he uttered a deep sigh. The interior of his house would be silent and still, debris from takeout meals scattered on every surface and the floor beside the sagging brown leather sofa, the television screen blank and cracked, the bed unmade. There was no use caring for anything anymore. Sinclair had no joy, life was pitiful, sad and seemingly endless. When Celeste said no to his proposal, his life stopped having meaning.


As he turned to shut the front door, he noticed a cardboard box laying on its side between the step and the brick wall. It must be for my neighbor, I never ordered anything. He picked it up and was surprised to find his name on the label. Puzzled, but also intrigued he set the package on the kitchen table and took a pair of scissors to the clear tape sealing the box. Inside he found a glossy brochure, entitled Riches Are Us and several smaller boxes. Sinclair opened each box with a growing excitement. He laid the items on the table in a lone and looked at each one, with a satisfied smile. The first was a roll of $20-dollar bills, he would count them shortly to find a surprising amount of $2000. The next three items were all gold -a tie clip, a fountain pen and a circular pin embossed with a strange logo of some kind. After inspecting these treasures his attention turned to the brochure. It was substantial in weight, so he decided to make a cup of tea before settling down to read it.


Sitting on the sagging sofa, Sinclair began to read, his eyes widened as he read the content and a thrill filled him. His depression forgotten now; this was an incredible opportunity. He could make thousands and show Celeste what a mistake she’d made refusing his marriage proposal. This was his future. With the seed money he could build his own market, his own sales and become rich. He would start with friends and family first and then promote the advantages further afield, recruiting as he went to rise to the next tier. He called the number on the back of the brochure – a friendly voice answered and promised his supplies would be with him in two days. Sinclair didn’t bother with the small print – he knew he would be rich and very soon.


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