Miller
He had everything-wealth, fame, power- but failed to identify the most blaring aspect of a complete life which was missing in his case. Love.
The young man in him had thought that all anyone needed to attain happiness was to gain the luxuries he possessed, but later he realized that he was utterly wrong. These past few weeks he started to feel so disconsolate, estranged and troglodytic that the will to live slowly escaped his body until what was left was a barren unemotional being whose empathy was non-existent.

As he sat alone on the big table inside a huge gold-plated mansion, butlers surrounding him and doing his bidding, he felt an ironic heart wrenching sense of rejection. The rays of the sun cut through the windowpanes and spilled on the floor like fresh honey. The curtains were newly fabricated, and the chairs were made of fine wood. The smell of pancakes and waffles filled the air with a delicious aroma as the waiter brought desert for Miller. It tasted bitter in his mouth.

Edgar
He waited patiently for the phone beside him to ring. Alone in the apartment, he started to feel shivers run down his spine, even though the sun shone brightly outside. He could see it through the glass door leading to the balcony. He repeated the instructions Mother had given him in his mind. Don’t open the door if a stranger rings the bell.
If it is me and dad, before we come in, we will knock five times.
Biscuits are in the upper cupboard in the kitchen.
Cinnamon rolls are in the oven.

He looks outside, then to his room, where a small stuffed toy lay wedged between his backpack and the low stool. Michelin’s first toy. Suddenly, his ambivalent and uncertain feelings became too irresolute to comprehend.
A week ago, his golden retriever started experiencing uncanny and abnormal symptoms. She would throw up two to three times a day, and sleep for twenty-two hours. She refused to go for walks, which was usually the most exciting part of her day.

Eventually Edgar’s parents took Michelin to the vet, and the doctor told them very unfortunate news about Michelin having a new kind of disease involving the heart, the one whose cure had still not been found. Michelin wasn’t old, merely five, which is the youthful time in a dog’s life.

As Edgar sat in the dining room in a small apartment in Lakeport, Idaho, waiting for the phone call from his parents to inform him of the outcome, this was all he could think about.
He already knew what to expect. But the truth was, he had become too attached to ever let go. The mind overflowed with emotions he could not overcome, the eccentric puddle of sensations crowding his prefrontal cortex.
Don’t open the door if a stranger rings the bell.
The phone rings.
Biscuits are in the upper cupboard in the kitchen.
The phone rings again, its strange ringtone buzzing loudly in his ears.
Cinnamon rolls are in the oven.
He picks it up.

Miller
He is on the rooftop of a very tall skyscraper. The drive two hours north to reach Idaho had been a success. Just as he had suspected, no one recognized him here. Tides of introspection splashed onto the shore of his mind. He knows what he must do to end his misery once and for all. The slow drop into a meaningless chasm of loneliness was sucking the life out of him.

He clutches the railing with both hands, and they tremble. His legs are wobbling as well. His heart is thumping loudly in his chest. To think his life has come to this. Disgust encroached his soul, blinding him from the agony seeping inside his skeleton. A single wet drop touched the rough surface of the roof, leaving his glassy eyes with a sense of contrition.

Realization dawned on him. All his life his ambition reached the skies. He became greedy. But what he needed the most was simply lying on the ground, waiting for him to understand he was doing it all wrong, but Miller never even glanced in the other direction.
It was a simple action. All he had to do was jump. He thought about how he could have started afresh, gotten a new identity and lived happily. Yet another regret added to the never-ending list.

As he is falling, a quick strike of gold catches his eyes. He doesn’t know what it is. It reminds him of the sun rays penetrating through the serrated edges of his giant mansion, the taste of sweet nectar on his lips. He doesn’t know what it is, but it still fascinates him. A little mystery he’ll never be able to solve.

Edgar
He couldn’t believe his ears. Michelin had somehow survived and was coming back home.
This is some kind of trick Mother and Father are playing on me to soften the blow. This cannot be true, he thought to himself. The vet herself had said that there is absolutely no chance of survival in such kind of a situation.
He dropped the phone from his hands. The cracks spread across the small screen, weaving its way around the surface like a spiderweb. The eerie method in which the extremely thin web-like lines proliferated while cutting the hard glass made Edgar uncomfortable.

He went outside the transparent door into the balcony, trying to process the information when he faintly heard knocks on the door. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
Faint sounds resounded from the room.

He gazed at the cluster of buildings in front of him.
The balcony door glided open.

Instantly, he saw a person falling from the clouds ahead of him.
The thaumaturgy of God?
Hope, that his dog would return, suddenly seized his composite mind.

A thought struck him, just as lightning strikes the ground.
Maybe miracles do happen after all.

Ochroid fur touched his skinny leg, bright beneath the dimming sky.