The prison gate locks from outside. 'O'. The letter 'O' can embody exactly what Ryan is feeling right now— its roundness metamorphosing into an entire spectrum of emotions, ranging from shock, ending at panic.Ryan's heart leaps into his throat, sending a pool of fear coursing through his veins, "What. . . the hell?" His words incongruously tumbling out.Compromising confusion registers a gravitational fear, but its parent Ryan struggles to understand whatever is happening. "Oh fuck! I was just talking about this," mind trying to make sense of their predicament, Ethan shares dissatisfaction— in the pit of Ethan's stomach, a warning issue.Who dares even to bat an eye, not Ryan in this case, "Sir…"It's bare escape for one rusty sink, and an old wooden table. The looming silence only adds. It feels more like a real prison, that Ryan is actually trapped inside."You want to know how do we get out of here, I know," words flowing like a twisted stream of consciousness, Ethan gives a cyni

Grand foyer pedicures Ethan's assistant's advent, high esteem speaking into Ryan. Corporation only fitting, whipping the brunette's face with a newfound slap. Ryan summons will, whooping every ounce of attention he is getting— in line "Good morning, Sir!" How soon is too soon exactly? How is it four days already? How many days make four days? Ryan hasn't gotten used to being paid juggling respects left and right far— he had just adjusted to always acting in the role of one who pays, gets nothing in return. . . Resounding click-clacks focus on a pair of Chelsea boots, hallowed ground departing to the opposite direction of Ethan's grand glass doors. "May I co–" a bumming noddle is gawking at Ryan, leering…enough reason for Ryan to tread substantial emotional distress. "What's that in your hand, Mr. Miller?" "Huh?" Ryan reacts absurdly, drawing back in distaste, "S- sorry. I think I saw something there," lacking in evidence, Ryan will not breathe a word to his boss— that could have bee

"Alright folks, right this way," Ethan rises from his opulent seat, flapping at his clients, Michael and his esteemed wife Allina to take their respective cues. The showroom kicking about, still on the stocks, leaks a vim cooperating with prospects of one's expectancy. Conceptual sketches of the app LOVESICK's quirks, alongside sleek and architectural designs, have been built on to prettify the sterile walls pottered in red-pink. "Allina, Michael, you both have chosen the perfect time to visit. We're just putting our best final touches before the event. So, I heartily welcome you to the future of love here, right under this roof," Ethan begins, pointing a finger towards the feisty sketches all across the wall, "Here, we attempt to redefine the way people connect, to bridge the gap between the digital and the tangible, the virtual and the real," this man here, Ethan Smith, means business, for the gentleman has set his heart on coming to a yielding compromise at the feet his brusque woo

The grandeur, the opulence do very little to calm his nerves. Ryan has no idea what to expect, nothing one-up than humiliation. But the tumultuous events of the past stints had left the brunette on his edge. Mustering up the last bit of courage he has, Ryan enters the grand living room. It is filled with a bustling crowd, coming off apparitions that seem to dwarf the assistant in size. Ryan's anxiety shows no sign of dissipating anytime soon, a sense of foreboding washes over him. Each step taken, Ryan's trepidation dilutes. The phantom crowd seem to part a narrow aisle for solely him to pave, as if they are all well aware of the impending encounter between him and his overseer Ethan. He feels like a reluctant protagonist willingly walking towards his uncertain, maybe all altering fate."Is it what I am thinking it is. . ." Sound of a distant, feeble violin strings playing an all absorbing melody echoing through air, intensifying each corner in Ryan's mind, lighting his forsaken hopes

“Yes, Elizabeth, outside the damn box,” Ethan repeats, growing with ripping adamantation, “We're not getting anywhere with these conventional ideas.”Benjamin, the team's resident strategist scratches his chin thoughtfully, “But where else can we look? We've exhausted all the obvious avenues.”“That's precisely the problem!” Ethan exclaims, hands clammy, clasped together, “We're tethering to the same old patterns, expecting different results. We need to challenge our assumptions, break free from the constraints of our preconceptions.”“But what does that even mean? ‘Thinking outside the box'?” Elizabeth must have garnished enough courage to remark such, “Isn't it just a cliché?”“It is anything but a cliché, Elizabeth,” Ethan retorts, “It is a mindset. It is about refusing to accept the status quo and constantly pushing the boundaries of creativity and innovation,” Ethan drags his ombre ravenette waves from his face for an opaque view that ends at nothing. The team members exchange d