text: Craig Thompson slides out his office chair and sitting down, gets into his Investment form, booting up his multiple systems which display the numerous world stock markets on the multiple monitors which are strategically situated around his desk. Being a twenty eight year old Investment prodigy, Craig has made the firm of Hanson & Hanson Investments millions of dollars in the last several months with eerily accurately calculated trades. Today, arriving at work way before the usual employee crowd arrives, because this time using investors funds, he took a personal risk, without the firms knowledge or authorization. With his index finger hovering slightly above the enter key, sweat begins to form on Craig's brow as his heart pounds loudly in his chest. Watching intensely, Craig slams the enter key and submits the sell transaction as the graph hits the desires price point, wiping his brow nervously as he waits for the response. Within seconds, the red box appears - transaction accepted. In one motion, jumping in the air, knocking over the office chair, Craig almost dances about his office. In less then twenty four hours, he just made the firm over one million dollars in a single trade. He must now explain his action to his boss, as the transaction was not sanctioned. Up-righting his chair, Craig sees Sarah staring at him through the office glass wall. Craig's office dancing has displayed a total out of character action of the completely cold-hearted office bastard he constantly displays. He gives Sarah two middle fingers and yells for her to disappear. Sarah turns and almost runs in fear. Ten hours later Craig shuts down his systems, and, leaning back in his office chair with eyes closed, smiles to himself. “A million dollars for the company, and a ten thousand immediate bonus for me.” Taking three one hundred dollar bills from his wallet, Craig folds them in half and slips them into the small donation like envelope taken from the stack from his top desk drawer. With a marker he jots “Be Safe” on the front and seals the envelope. Glancing about the office to ensure no one is watching, Craig slips the sealed envelope into his breast pocket. Finished for the day, Craig turns out the lights and heads out. Pressing the down button on the elevator, Craig pulls out his Cell Phone and checks the closing stock prices and global stock trends. Sarah, seeing Craig, stops then cautiously approaches the elevator standing nervously beside Craig. A little bit apprehensive, Sarah smiles. “Craig... heading home?” Craig scrolls his Cell Phone, seemingly unaware and continues to scroll his phone. “Sarah, would I be out of my office, standing at the elevator with the down button lit, if I was not going home? Really?” A ding and the elevator arrives, doors opening. Craig does not move his eyes from his Cell Phone. Craig flat and cold says “Sarah, you go ahead... I prefer to travel alone. I will grab the next one.” A slight huff as Sarah stomps into the elevator and turns facing the completely engrossed Craig. “You’re a cold-hearted ass!” The elevator doors close, and Craig presses the down button without removing his attention from his Cell Phone. Martha, sitting on her sleeping bag to protect herself from the cold of the sidewalk concrete, adjusts her homeless sign as she waits for the five o’clock business crowd. The passing donations have been small recently, but Martha still tries to put some of the contributions aside for her dreams. Dreams she is beginning to think will never happen. Martha always dreams of a weekend as a normal person in a comfortable warm bed and a hot shower. A nice dinner, regular conversation and maybe a glass of wine. But now as the business traffic lessens, she fears that this dream too will be as her life, totally shattered. Martha wipes away a tear that flows down her cheek, and as every other afternoon, holds out the battered paper cup to the passerby's As she waits for the office crowd, Martha remembers the day, as she does so many times, where at sixteen, her moms new boyfriend tossed her out of the home she had lived in all her life. She refused his advances while her mom was at work causing a gigantic rift in the fragile home-life. She does not know what happened after, except the locks were changed and her mom would never answer the door. It has now been six years, and the streets have become her home. A quarter here, fifty cents there, a sign the donations... contributions are diminishing. Possibly a sign of the current times, as, the traffic has also thinned. Where Martha could possibly have two meals a day, it has now become one as the norm, but she continues to try and put a little bit aside, even if only a twenty five cent piece, to hopefully have her dream, if only for a single weekend, of a taste of a normal life. Martha watches for the one Friday constant - the tall beautiful man in the expensive suit that every day places a small envelope in her cup. Sometimes a dollar, sometimes two, but always paper and never coins. The one time her gave her a twenty dollar bill allowed Martha to eat for almost two days that weekend. He never takes his eyes from his Cell Phone, but always says the same phrase that is written on the small envelope - Be Safe. Another quarter form a stranger clings against the other coins in the bottom of the paper cup, as Martha softly says thank you, watching, as the stranger, possibly, now feeling better about themselves, continues on their way. In the distance, Martha sees the one constant, the beautiful man that sometimes allows her to continue on, heading toward her, as always, focused on his Cell Phone. As he passes where Martha has sat for over two years, Craig reaches into his breast pocket and removing the envelope places it into Martha’s paper cup again uttering the familiar single phrase - Be Safe. His eyes remain fixed on the Cell Phone, continuing his stride as Martha utters a soft - Thank you. She watches as he vanishes down the stairs into the Subway. Opening the knapsack, Martha views the stack of small envelopes and reaching into her tattered paper cup, removes the most recent one, reading the phrase Be Safe. Lifting the flap Martha gasps seeing the three one hundred dollar bills. She places her hand on her mouth to muffle her excitement, as tears begin to flow down her cheeks. With shaking hands she removes the three one hundred dollar bills and places the envelope in the knapsack with the others. Craig dresses in the clothes he purchased from the Thrift Shop, because, Friday night is the one night he can be himself. He glances about the penthouse condo, the coldness of it which comes with his profession. The millions in his bank account can not compensate for the loneliness he lives in his life every day. Filling his wallet with one dollar bills, he heads out to the other side of town where no one knows who he is, or what he does. To the fun and casual establishment where everyone is no one, yet, still, someone. An adjustment of the second hand leather jacket and Craig heads out for a night of casual non business conversation and interaction. Martha opens the door to the eighty nine dollar Motel room she got for Friday and Saturday nights. It is sparse, but clean. All carpet floor, a double bed, dresser with a mirror, A TV with cable, and best of all a shower. Closing and locking the door, the bags with the clothes from the Thrift Shop and make-up from the Dollar Store dropped to the floor, Martha throws herself onto the bed, wrapping herself in the comforter. She begins crying and shaking like a baby. She now has the one time weekend dream to live as others. She wipes her eyes and begins to get ready. Craig enters the small homey restaurant on the other side of town, far from where he resides, and takes in the simple atmosphere. Small round two person tables, which all seem to be taken, and a small bar with a couple of empty seats. Maybe wanting some chicken wings, maybe pizza and a couple of beers, Craig opts for a seat at the bar, when in the far corner a single young beautiful lady is sitting alone. Martha sees Craig and shyly waves, motioning him over. Craig stares, not knowing who this lady is. He has never seen her here before. Shrugging, he makes his way to the table Martha is sitting at. Craig finds Martha alluring and beautiful with her red flowing hair, large brown eyes and simple silk blouse and pleated skirt. There is something familiar about her, but he cannot place it. Martha, knowing who Craig is, invites him to join her, which he immediately accepts. Ordering a simple draft beer and simple pub snacks, Craig easily enters into conversation with Martha. After several minutes of conversation, feeling unusually comfortable, Craig invites Martha to have dinner with him, and she immediately accepts, gently touching his hand. “Please call me Marty... I prefer the nick name.” Martha rolls over in the large double bed of the hotel room she has for one more night. The dinner and conversation with Craig the night before was playing over in her mind. It was like having a wonderful normal life... if only for a small slice of time in her life. Tears swell as she thinks of how she deceived him by going to the ladies room, only to catch a cab back to the hotel. He would never want to be seen with a girl like her. Tonight she will stay in her hotel room and order in, and not meet Craig for dinner as he asked. Martha clutches the pillow and cries. A week has gone by, and Craig cannot get Marty out of his mind. She never showed up for dinner on Saturday, as he waited for almost two hours. Nothing has been the same in his life since as she is constantly on his mind. Even his trading has been lacking success. Sarah, walking by his office, gives Craig the middle finger and mouths the word - asshole. She turns her back and continues on. On the main screen, a message pops up from the VP. “Craig - in my office now.” With a sigh, Craig knocks on the VP door, enters and sits across from the Harold, one of the senior partners who he calls boss. His solid stern look is very concerning. Craig watches as he leans forward, hands folded on the desk. For the first time in his life, Craig is very nervous. “Craig, do not speak, just listen.” Harold sits back and sighs. “Last week you made the firm over a million dollars. Your performance has been outstanding, but, this week has been... shall I say, concerning. Tuesday you cost the firm one hundred thousand dollars in a questionable transaction, and yesterday another twenty five thousand.” “Sir, Harold, I can explain.” “Craig, please, I understand trader burnout. You have been performing at one hundred and fifty percent for months - Sarah has voiced her concerns. I feel you need a break.” “But sir, I can explain.” “This is going to be non negotiable Craig. Starting right now, you are on six weeks unpaid leave. Rest, relax, get away from the market - you need a break. So shut down and go home, and we will see you after you are rested.” Craig leaves Harold’s office and for the first time, his tail between his legs in defeat and head hung low, but yet, a burden removed from his shoulders. For the first time in his business life, he is not bound, tied to a desk and is relaxed. Raising his head high as he walks through the office, he thinks. “I have over twenty two million dollars in my account, time to be a normal person. I do not need this damn job. The first thing I do when I get home is my resignation letter.” Craig sees Sarah, and with a cold stern face, points a finger at her mouthing. “Got what you wanted bitch - I am outta here.” Proceeding to the lobby, Craig pushes the down button, and waits for the elevator as calmness flows over him and all tension leaves his body. For the first time in a long time, a smile appears on his face. Martha adjusts her sleeping blanket and prepares for the Friday afternoon business crowd. Thinking of last weekend, Friday especially, she wonders if she will ever experience that again. A warm place to sleep, a shower, a glass of wine and dinner with a very beautiful tender man. She did not care he had very little money - he treated her as a very special lady. Holding out her tattered paper cup, Martha receives a quarter here a quarter there as the business, office people pass by. Suddenly, she sees Craig in the distance, and, for the first time he is not on his cell phone. Bowing her head to display only the baseball cap she is wearing, Martha outstretches her arm, holding the cup high. Craig passing, drops the small usual envelope into the cup as he continues toward the subway. Martha looks up and removes her baseball cap, allowing her long red hair to flow down about her shoulders. She softly utters her usual phrase to the patrons, but, this time adds a name. “Thank you... Craig.” The voice sounding familiar, Craig stops in midstride, freezing in place. He turns and glances down the street to focus on the homeless girl he has given so many envelopes to, every Friday, in the passing months. He turns and walks towards her, his stride quickening. Martha stands and faces Craig as he reaches her. Gently grasping Martha by the shoulders, Craig gazes deeply into her eyes, and for a second time a smile graces his face. “Marty? Marty, is this really you?” A tear flows down Martha’s cheek. One of thousands in the last week. She smiles sweetly. “It is actually Martha, Craig. I am Martha, and thank you for you kindness you have given me every Friday afternoon.” Craig cups Martha’s face and gently kisses her then hugs her close. “Martha, this has been my Investment of a Lifetime.” THE END