At Least You Are Paid Well
/Rolling hills of green pine sway softly in the wind. The sun, high in the sky, is casting its golden gaze upon your bare chest. You lay there, basking in the warmth, content. A calm trickling sound catches your attention. Your gaze falls lazily upon the crystal clear water of a small flowing river beside you. You could spend an eternity here ...
“Beep, Beep, Beep.”
Every morning you are in a rush. Cringing at the shrill alarm, you relish the warmth for another second. The sheets are hugging you, the bed is soft. It is almost pleading with you to stay.
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