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This writing was accepted for publication
in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book...
Farewell to Seafaring
Down in the Dirt, v153
(the January 2018 Issue)




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Farewellto Seafaring

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At Midnight
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Jan.-Apr. 2018
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Down in the Dirt
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Broker

Isaiah Granado Finley

    A small wind ruffles the bedsheets of both beds, flipping the corners about. One of the bedsheets looks more vibrant than the other, but it’s hard to tell because one bed is lit solely by a lamp in the corner of the room. The other is exposed to direct sunlight from the open patio door, through which two men can be seen talking animatedly. The wind blows again, carrying their voices inside the room...
    “- and I believe that seals the deal on our contract. Congratulations Mr. Burnnok, on making what Armstice CO. insists is a valuable investment.”
    A man wearing a stiff burgundy sweater and sandy brown pants sets down a pen and leans back in his seat. As he starts to talk, his hand sweeps through a sweaty mess of graying hair. “More than happy to oblige, Mr. Jethroes. More than happy...”
    The man he addresses across from him, stops putting documents in a manila folder to look up at his companion. This one is wearing a plain white business shirt with a fascinating tie, standard dark grey slacks shifting as he fidgets uncomfortably at the statement. A drop of sweat drips from his slick black hair and lands directly in Jethroes’ left eye, causing him to squint slightly at his company’s new business partner.
    As he’s rubbing the afflicted eye, Jethroes chuckles nervously. “Is that so? You seemed... stiff at the start of the proposal.”
    Burnnok tugs at the sleeves of his sweater, looking in the other man’s direction with unfocused eyes, a small smile beginning to grace his weathered features.
    “If I had seemed more lenient, you would have tried to swindle me for all I’m worth, no?” Burnnok laughs dryly. “At least, that’s what all the others have done.”
    Fresh beads of sweat begin to form on Jethroes’ brow, but his expression and posture indicate the intense mid-summer heat has nothing to do with them.
    “All the... others, sir?”
    Burnnok focuses in on the man in front of him and hoots, slapping his knee once or twice in the process, his rickety wooden mount squeaking in protest to the sudden movement. Jethroes also starts at the sudden noise, shocked by the amount of mirth coming from the older gentleman. Burnnok settles down after a few moments, wiping a tear from his right eye.
    “Ah, yes. The press wouldn’t have heard about those... negotiations, would they?”
    He chuckles a slightly deeper this time. “The companies involved were too embarrassed after I turned them down to say a wink of what happened...”
    Jethroes nervously looks around him. The patio is confined enough, what with the palm fronds hanging about and the waves of heat pounding the earth to discourage any would-be onlookers or eavesdroppers. But as the camera follows Jethroes line of sight back into the room, slight shadows can be seen coming from the door. And they weren’t leaving...
    The camera pans back to Jethroes and Burnnok abruptly.
    “Did you know that four other companies offered me twice to three times as much as Armstice CO. did?” Burnnok’s voice still has hints of mirth in it as he goes to light a cigar.
    Jethroes looks back at the man, a bemused expression twisting his young features.
    “Then why did you...”
    “Every other company was full of corruption and greed, son.” Burnnok reaches for a glass on the small table between them, realizes it’s empty and sets it back down. “At my age, I feel no reason to be interested by how much I gain from a deal. It’s about helping people live easier lives than I did now...”
    Jethroes leans back in his chair, the bemused expression replaced by one of shock. That shock is also quickly replaced by a look of fierce determination as he leans an arm, hand open across the table.
    “On behalf of Armstice CO., I promise not to let you down, sir.”
    Burnnok’s face lights up with a grand smile as he shakes the young lad’s hand. No other words are spoken but the camera can see the eyes of both men, the lack of animosity clear in them. The camera starts receding from the scene, focusing back onto the room. As it does, the small shadows from the doorway disappear.



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