Falling

by T.J. Newman

He tried—and failed—to block out the image of his family on the other side of the screen. Bound. Gagged. Helpless. Waiting for him to do something.

Steam billowed in balletic swirls and twirls as little bubbles rose to the coffee’s dark surface, reflecting the fluorescent purple glow of the overhead light.

Accept the given circumstances and deal with what you can control. Don’t waste time on what you can’t. That’s how he ran the tower. That’s why he was the boss.