Ms. Ava Rice sat at her oak desk on her leather chair glaring at her stock portfolio. Two percent increase? Did her broker really expect her to be satisfied with that? Oh, she knew the story of the faltering economy, but her company had manage 1o percent growth. Not enough, but far better than this measly two.

She scanned her office. Chrome and leather furnishings gleamed, objets d’art adorned the shelves and walls, signed original books with uncracked spines filled the bookshelves. All stood in testament to what she had earned; money, power, prestige.

But there was never enough. Once her colleagues knew what she had, they went out and got a better one. A newer one. An older one. A rarer one.

There were days she wished she could just step away from it all. Sell it and live quietly on her fortune, in tune with the world around her.

She shook her head. Such sentimental hogwash would get her nowhere. Without status, she was nothing. And without things, she’d be bored in her own mind.