Arthur
The stack of papers on my desk seems to grow rather than shrink no matter how many hours I spend working through them. Budget proposals, foreign policy briefings, economic reports—being Alpha President means drowning in an endless sea of bureaucracy.
I rub my eyes, fighting off the midday fatigue. Just three more reports to review before my afternoon meeting with the agricultural council, and then I can see Iris and Miles. I glance over at the picture of the three of us on my desk—taken during our recent vacation, Miles holding a baby goat while Iris and I crouch on either side of him—and smile softly. When I look at this picture, everything else in life seems easier and insignificant.
Unfortunately, a knock at my office door interrupts my thoughts. I call out, and a mo
