Days had passed. The heavy, dark fog that usually settled over Milo's mind had thinned out, replaced by a quiet, daily routine that still felt foreign to him.
It was nearly eight in the evening. The main company of the Hartley Group was quiet, the glass tower glowing softly against the dark sky. Most of the staff had left, leaving only a few people on the upper levels.
Milo sat on a stone bench in the courtyard behind the lobby. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of fresh grass and cut stone. He looked up, his hazel eyes tracking the perfect, round shape of the full moon rising above the skyline.
So beautiful.
"Is it a dream?" Milo whispered to the empty air. He didn't believe he actually had this kind of life.
For years, his entire universe had been bounded by walls he couldn't escape and the certainty of physical pain whenever Nero was angry. He had even been afraid to breathe. He remembered it very well.
