YD6~31: Yael And The Demise of Michael’s Art Metal
After completing my courses, the sting of a B score on my final examination, a wound on a much older scar. I’m cautious, and shy that the crack of every door opening will reveal my innermost. flinched under the weight of my past — Like a Furtive on the run from my crimes. A self-made man wrestling with the ghosts of my dead brother, whose name I bear. The school dropout, to the family poultry farm, Kyalami. Until my sixteenth birthday qualified as a bricklayer’s apprentice, callus my hand s on Thursdays at a college bench. With doubts plaguing me, I’m driving the Oldsmobile Cutlass. sailing along the familiar highway from New York with an awakening suburb's soft hues, the first cars joining the familiar stretch of highway. Watching the speedometer against my tendencies cheating my foot weighed on the throttle. As I ponder an audacious scheme to maneuver the CEO, Mr. Gates III’s verbal promise resonates louder in my head. “If you have all A’s, I’ll pay your tuition fees.”...