Daydreaming

I like to imagine I'm laying on a simple, low sitting black couch, perfectly rectangular. In front of it is a black glass coffee table on simple brushed chrome legs, a bottle of rum and a glass on it. On the wall is a huge holograph TV turned to some trade channel, muted. Outside the massive glass panels making up one wall, snow falls on a park twenty stories below. People stroll around under the street lamps, bundled up in coats, hustling from one place to another or just holding hands and strolling. Music flows softly from speakers hidden about the room, barely audible, soft and melancholy. The lights of the TV reflect off a black marble floor. I think about the next haul I should make; amassing wealth for the sake of wealth. Sliding my legs off the couch, I stand, ice clinking in the glass I hold as I make my way to one of the panes of glass and breath against it, condensation forming a small cloud as I watch people leave tracks in the snow. Everything is quiet, clean, just the way it should be. There are no worries about money or health, what lies in the future or where my life will lead those I care about. There is just simple enjoyment in the way things are, and my power to change them or to leave them be, but there is no need for change. Everything is as it should be, but not stagnant and boring.