The Lonely

The house was dim and quiet. A tall, thin man sat over in the corner of his dark, cold den alone. He unbuttoned his nice and fine linen jacket, and exhaled loudly. Out of his pocket he pulled a money-clip wth one-hundred dollar bills folded neatly in it. As he started to count his money, he laughed greedily. He thought of his BMW parked out front right along with his Corvette and his limousine. He also thought of his three-story house with his wine cellar with all of his expensive wines in it. Then he thought of all the homeless people he had mistreated, and all of the innocent people he had put of of a job. The smile slowly faded from his lips as he realized he had no one to share his wealth with: no wife, no children, not even a dog. He had no one. Earlier that year he had disowned his family because he thought that they were after his money. He realized that success is not just making money, but with whom you share the money. His face turned pale as one tiny tear rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away. He hadn't cried since he was a little boy. He closed his eyes as another tear fell, then another, and another. His body shook as he cried in his dark and cold den....alone.