"Hey, Mr. Bailey, you okay?" my friend pulled me out of my memory.
I come back to reality to my current home in New York City with a jolt. I turn to him and reply, "Fine". My friend shrugs and goes back to whatever he was doing before he disturbed me. Then I turn my head back to that stupid flag that now hangs in my living room on the wall framed in dark mahogany.
I had decided to put the flag in the living room rather than my office at Dawn Industries. I thought my employees would ask too many questions if I had put it there. My "friends" are actually just some of my employees. I didn't want to invite my family to my too big penthouse suite because I was still estranged from them. My Aunt Attie or something especially was not allowed to visit because of what she had said at my father's funeral.
The rest of the living room walls are coated in thick oak tree brown paint and various mementos. One is my masters from a business college that I had to attend to assume the rights to my father's company. Another is picture of my friends that had died in Ciudad Juarez and me in my tiny old home. I still hate having to live in this stupid huge place. It used to be my dad's after I had moved away.
My thirtieth birthday party is going on around me, but my mind is focusing on that stupid flag.