The fountain of youth is not in a clandestine landscape nor is it stories of myth. It is very much real and can be bought by the right price. The elite of the elite who are aging and close to death, purchase a once in a lifetime opportunity to dunk...
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The city life was bustling, but Thomas Stafford felt at a stand still at sixty stories up. He looked out over the horizon and could see the sun gently setting beyond the Stafford Enterprises skyscraper in the distance. He sighed and gently shook his whiskey glass, the ice clinking back and forth. The penthouse was decked out with all the most lavish accommodations. A full spa shower on the main terrace. A personalized bowling alley in the west hall. Of course, a full wet bar stocked monthly with imported liquor. More televisions than a video game junkie could handle. Yet, Thomas usually played Fox news, football, and 80's sitcoms simultaneously. Yet, all of his possessions meant jack shit to him. It was all a piss in the pot as far as he was concerned. He walked over to his ten foot vanity mirror and took a long hard look and tears welled up in his eyes. His blonde locks had turned into thin white strands. His once chiseled face was now a buttery round ball. Even the bags under his eyes were so prominent that he looked like he was a perpetual user of liquid eyeliner. He had lived a hard life. A successful but hard life. At seventy three, he felt like he was ninety three. Fifty years in the oil drilling business had given him four heart attacks, two knee replacements, four divorces, and a net worth of five billion dollars. "What I wouldn't give to go back," Thomas longed as he pressed his fingers gently on the mirror. "I'd give it all, just to be who I once was." As Thomas reflected in the mirror, his computer monitor lit up with a notification from his Outlook mail.
