Arthur Warden should have been happy. Walking down the sidewalk of his suburban neighborhood with a brown paper bag full of groceries, life was quiet. His maroon sweater vest. His horned rimmed glasses. His khaki pants and brown leather loafers. His iron grey hair. His red paisley tie. He was really living the American dream. Water Sprinklers. Lush green yards. Children playing. Beautiful two story houses and white picket fences. A loving wife, two handsome sons and a daughter. The world turned. People laughed and fell in love. That should’ve been enough. He should’ve been happy.
Arthur walked up to his front door. He waved to old Mrs. Shingleston who was tending her roses next door. He walked up his front steps and opened the mailbox flap, looked inside. His heart skipped. The grocery bag crashed on the ground. Inside the mailbox, along with the usual bills and advertisements, was a rose-colored letter. There was nothing written on it. No number. No address. Someone had personally dropped it off. Arthur tore open the envelop and unfolded the letter. His eyes quickly scanned the contents. The color drained from his face. He folded the letter. Placed it in his pocket. It was then he noticed that his hands were shaking.
He should’ve been sad. He should’ve been angry.
One of the advertisements caught his eye. A black and gold flyer. He grabbed it and walked down the steps. He loosened his tie and quick-marched down the road. Mrs. Shingleston perked her head up.
“And where are you going off to again in such a hurry?” She asked.
Arthur tightened his jaw.
“Back to work,” he said.
The black flyer was clutched in his hand. At the top, written in gold letters, read: “Oculux Ltd.”