A bitter chuckle escaped him, a sound tinged with irony.
In his past life, he had been nothing more than a ghost,just another face in the crowd, another name on a timecard.
He had worked himself to death,literally,for a job that would have replaced him before his chair grew cold.
And now? Now he was Arthur Osborn, heir to a powerful family. The contrast was almost laughable.
He paused beside a marble bench, running his fingers along its smooth surface.
The coldness of the stone grounded him, pulling him back from the tide of memories threatening to drag him under.
"Mom. Dad. Don't worry; I'm doing quite well in this new world,better than I ever did on Earth!"
Their faces flashed in his mind,smiling, vibrant, aliveand then they were gone. Just like that.
He clenched his jaw, forcing those images away as if they were shadows creeping too close for comfort.
The wind picked up, carrying with it the faintest hint of salt from the distant sea.
