The Price

Listlessly he feeds the pigeons, strutting proudly in the park; kicking at an empty coke can, gravity has left its mark. Nattily attired he's one of many other CEOs high atop the corporate ladder, highly thought of, such a pose. Bored with mergers, acquisitions, weary of the daily stress; where's the joy, the satisfaction, where's the bliss of happiness? Hamptons cottage never lived in, cabin cruiser barely used; his wife's begun divorce proceedings, claims that she has been misused. Children living with no love, he never sees them anymore; he's too busy making millions, economics is his score. Who'd have thought a Wharton graduate with a double PhD would spend his lunch hour feeding pigeons, kicking coke cans endlessly. In his spacious penthouse office with a prospect of Times Square he seals another hefty contract, he has lost the will to care.