Hands

By RJ Perant

        He felt it coming.   He felt it earlier that day, in his office. He had just closed another venture, one that would ensure another decade of financial security. When he got up to get a cup of coffee, he took a moment to look over the lake, it was then he could sense the coming storm. How many times had he looked at the lake for serenity, how often in those times could he sense the oncoming turbulence. He looked at his hands, clean and manicured. He decided against coffee. He left work early.   It hit him again


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