Lucas: Blurry lines

FOURTY-SIX days left before the event and I'm nowhere near the eureka to my magazine dilemma—not even in my dreams.

It's a good thing Dad has been kind enough to let me off the hook with some minor preparations for the event, but it's only showing just how much he wants me to be done with this magazine bestseller thing before he transfers me to the office right next to his.

It's fucking stressful. I've tried sucking up to him so he can increase the duration period by another month, but none of it is working. It always ends up with us fighting and him telling me he won't change his decision no matter what I do—because he's not getting any younger.

The way he's been repeating that phrase got me thinking he's about to die of something, but knowing him he'd have told me already if he has a chronic illness or something. Blinking furiously so I can get a clear view of my magazine, I let out a heavy sigh.