Click.The faint sound of a key slipping into the lock broke the still air of that early afternoon. The click was sharp yet strangely gentle, like the sigh of a hinge that had opened a thousand times before. The door eased open and a man stepped inside, shoulders slumped as if the world itself sat heavy on his back.Nathan Cole☠︎ 𓃵.In his hands was a cardboard box filled with the remnants of a life that had just crumbled. Pens, a couple of framed photos, an old coffee mug with a fading print that read World’s Okayest Employee. The mug rattled softly against the frame as he carried it, like the sound of bones shaking in a coffin. His face was drawn, lips pressed tight, eyes dull. He wasn’t just tired. He was empty.He had been fired.Hours earlier, he’d walked out of Voss Financial Corp, the place where he had spent years running numbers, analyzing portfolios, and grinding away to prove his worth. They had stripped him of everything with a single meeting, with words that cut colder t

Nathan Cole☠︎ 𓃵 sat hunched over the wooden chair by his bed, his elbows digging into the desk that wobbled every time he shifted his weight. His old computer hummed like an ancient beast, the fan whirring so loudly he almost thought it would burst into flames. The glow from the monitor bathed his face in pale blue light, painting shadows under his eyes. His gaze was fixed, sharp, hungry. On the screen, a business website loaded slowly, the spinning icon circling round and round like it was mocking him. Then finally, the article appeared, written in bold letters across the top. It was a piece about Bitcoin, one of the first he had ever read all those years ago in his previous life. Back then, he had skimmed it carelessly, dismissing it as some odd idea that nerds and criminals toyed with. But now, everything looked different. He scrolled down carefully, as if afraid the words would disappear if he rushed. The article explained that only a handful of people in the world had even b

Nathan Cole☠︎ 𓃵 stepped quietly into the hospital room, the faint creak of the door hinges carried across the sterile air like a whisper. His mother lay on the bed, her body fragile beneath the thin white sheets. She seemed half asleep, her breaths shallow, her eyelids fluttering with the effort of simply existing. But then she stirred, hearing the sound. Slowly, her head turned, her tired eyes searching. When they landed on him, her face brightened with a fragile smile, the kind only a mother could give. “Nathan. My boy.” The words almost broke him. His throat tightened as he stared at her, fighting back the burning pressure of tears. He wanted to rush forward and scoop her up in his arms, hold her tight, and never let go. But her body was far too weak. Even the smallest squeeze might hurt her. So instead, he walked carefully to her side, lowering himself into the chair by the bed. His hand trembled as he reached for hers. The skin of her hand was thin and cool, but it was stil