When you don’t have million enough

I was seated on the first floor at CCD editing my film. The noise upstairs is always within acceptable decibles. Hence I prefer the top end corner. Although the WiFi doesn’t reach that far, I manage it from my phone hotspot itself. Always. Project deadlines were stringent and my Macbook was reluctant to respond my way. Irritation was brewing but there was hardly anything I could do… Unfortunately, I didn’t have Tim Cook’s coordinates! I still don’t have it.

I was still struggling with my old horse when two (robust) gentlemen walked in and occupied the sofa. They sunk inside with ease and commanded (!) two coffees. They caught my fancy in between my machine’s unusual render lag.

They started discussing sale purchase, as usual. Real estate lords they were, after all!

By the way, it’s a hard time as the world is still hankering for a solution out of this pandemic. When everyone is blaming the virus, I have decided to follow suit. Monthly income is undergoing the huge imbalance of the millenium and few quadrants of a million seems too obscure. Networth is like the unreliable mobile network and I have to live with it. Backend maintenance is always the excuse as optic fibre is optically frivolous.

In the midst of this mammoth crisis, these two gentlemen started punching in their cheques and balances.

They started off with 300 million as their bid price. I was taken off-guard at once!

The amount started with an upswing till it hit a course correction. I was all ears while obliquely monitoring my machine’s progress. It was a classic conflict of timelines

Even if their personal sensex was in between a tug of war, but the numbers were huge! I quickly checked my account balance online.

Pitted against the coffeehouse wall, one, I had my back against it, and two, no one could shoulder-surf. Yet, I looked back, just in case. Yes, I was the last man sitting.

Our protagonists, on the other hand, were busy in their equations, relentlessly justifying the worth of millions.

I was depressed equating their pep talks and my pocket hole. I wondered what could be the secret of a millionaire. I was so much lost in my (mis)calculations, I never noticed the latte being served.

I nodded thanks to the Coffee-boy and sipped in the sugarless creamy froth. Immediately, I burnt my lips!

A few bucks of coffee rendered the jitters of an unrealistic dream I was so much engrossed in. I resumed my concentration on the millionaires’ mission.

The bid had, by then hit the 500-million mark! I murmured ‘Nah-my-god! Not my cup of…’ I held back the coffee cup and stared at it.

I’m still sipping one! Of course, something’s worth my cup of coffee! Half a penny more, or less.

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