Standing outside, Sullivan listened to the calming matin of a morning dove. As the arranged limousine slowed to a halt in front of Sullivan's house, the burnish on its freshly waxed exterior caught his eye. The strange nightmare from yesterday was continuing, and Sullivan was adamant to see it to completion.

  As Sullivan noticed a dog-walker gawking at the limo, its back door opened up, and Thoman Dartford's head popped out.

  "Ha, never rode a limo before? Well, that's about to change. Hop in kid."

  Yesternight, the night following the day of Sullivan's newsworthy awakening, he had spent ideating the new prodigal personality he would flaunt to the world. The first step, he naturally felt, was skipping school to take a tour of the Smithson&Company's state-of-the-art guild building. Additionally, he was dropping out of school altogether. All the opportunities of life were now wide open to him and credentials like a high-school diploma or a bachelor's degree were now no different from participation trophies.

  "Here kid, take a refreshment." Dartford offered while opening the mini-fridge's door.

  Peering in, past the alcoholic beverages, Sullivan spotted the brand of grape-flavored sport's drink he always had a hankering for. 'Could they have possibly known I like Mr. Purple?' Sullivan wondered with suspicion before twisting the cap off the bottle and sampling the liquid. As Sullivan relaxed and savored his Mr. Purple, a chuckle suddenly burst from him when he imagined the commotion currently happening at his erstwhile high school.

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.