“Have a good evening, Mr. Berry,” said a receptionist through a smile just as fake as Joja’s signature blue light. Oliver exhaled in relief as he walked out, welcoming the frigid evening over the wave goodbye. He fumbled with his headphones, cursing as he attempted to untangle the cord, eventually giving up and putting them on. He trotted along the dark, snowy sidewalk, illuminated in the phosphor of the corporate giant towering over him– Joja Corporation. The sole monolith of the Republic’s economy. The dominant manufacturer of most, if not all, goods circulating the nation. And the source of the soul-sucking office job that seemed to eat away at whatever was left of Oliver’s twenties. He tried not to think about it too hard, grateful to leave the sickening fluorescence for twilight. Instead, he found himself focusing on the mangled cord thumping against his chest.

...

With a click, Oliver’s shadow splayed on the dingy hardwood of his apartment. His jacket and keys haphazardly flew onto the messy tiled counter as he dragged himself into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, greeted by leftovers and a nearly empty pack of cheap beer. Despite his better judgment, he opted for the beer, cold skin reaching for the colder metal.

He leaned back against the counter and cracked the can open, swinging his head back and swallowing the jarring, near metallic alcohol. A little over a quarter of the can’s contents had emptied when he finally pulled it away, sighing as he stared at the wall in front of him.

His apartment was small, but the white, blank walls made it feel bigger. Bigger and impersonal. For better or for worse, it was just him, and that didn’t just mean no roommates, no pets. It meant no pictures, no visitors, not even a single plant. The only exception was a lonely frame holding the image of a warm, sunny landscape, hung directly in front of him.

‘Gem Berry Farmstead,’ the once pride and joy of the Berry family. Before his parents had turned their backs on his grandfather for prestigious jobs with Joja, it was regarded as what would’ve been their legacy. It had been passed down from generation to generation. But for one reason or another, the farm died off with Oliver’s grandfather. He had always assumed that the land had been sold, likely to Joja, for finance and favors. Or perhaps his grandfather refused to hand it to the likes of his parents and died with it. Either way, all Oliver had of it now was the picture in front of him. A grainy exposure of him and his grandfather in a plot of crops. Midday sun melting his pale skin and wide smile. His grandfather towered by his side, grin just as big and goofy.

His gaze rested on the warm scene in front of him, face turning into an amalgam of pained, home-sick nostalgia. Like a long-lasted craving that brought him to starvation. He longed for something he couldn’t recall the taste of, let alone even reach for.

Shutting the lights, Oliver waited until he was out of his grandfather’s proud sight before taking another sip of beer.

Oliver noiselessly entered his bedroom and set his can down on his desk. The only sign of any life was the creak of his chair as he sat down, followed by the bright light emanating from his now open laptop. He sat there for a while, waiting for the day’s exhaustion to hit him. Fingers mindlessly tapped away at the keyboard, buzzed brain looking to stay distracted. From a glance at his social media to a work-in-progress spreadsheet, he searched and searched for something to occupy his mind. In the mess of it all, he reached to the side for his beer. And with a bump, it tipped over and spilled over his desk.

“Shit,” he groaned, grabbing his laptop and standing up as the beer soaked into the papers on his desk and dripped onto his feet. He stood quiet for a moment, the silence broken by the aggressive clap of his laptop being shut and tossed onto the bed. His body was trembling, either from the alcohol, exhaustion, or frustration– he couldn’t tell. Each of these feelings then coagulated into the sound of a choked sob. He laid his head down with a slam of his fists. He dropped his head onto his forearms as tears spilled into the cold puddle of beer.

He remained here for a moment, doing nothing but letting the tears flow. He felt like a child throwing a tantrum, now sulking in a sticky mess. It was humiliating. He felt hopeless. Yet he remained unmoving, his tired mind and body giving into the moment of rest.

Eventually pulling himself away from his arms, Oliver sniffled as he processed the scene in front of him once more. He wasn't sure how long he had laid his head down, feeling as if he had only blinked and ended up falling asleep for Yoba knows how long. With a sigh, he pulled off his blue work polo and used it to soak up the beer. After, he left to grab a bag and paper towels, cleaning up what he could. He couldn't help but feel mocked by the can towering over him on the desk as he knelt down and began cleaning.

Under a few soiled documents on the corner of his desk, he found an untouched envelope with a big purple seal on the front. Oliver stared at it for a moment before setting it aside on his chair, returning to the task at hand. As he finished cleaning, he lazily placed the waste right outside his door before shutting it with a defeated sigh. Getting into bed, he found the envelope’s purple seal flashing in the corner of his eye, its glossy wax surface reflecting the sliver of moonlight seeping between his curtains. He approached his desk once more, taking the envelope into his hands.

Years ago, at Oliver’s seventh birthday party, his grandfather had been absent. His parents were busy in another room focused on whatever work they deemed more important, leaving him alone with various relatives and kids from school. He did his best to dismiss their collective absence, but when he had been given the envelope by one of his uncles, he unraveled. Not only was his grandfather not there, but the only gift from him was a letter? Truly the breaking point of any seven-year-old. The adults present did what they could to calm young Oliver down, his uncle being the only one able to soothe him after some time. In between sniffles, he explained that this was simply the best his grandfather could do. As Oliver slowly calmed down, he chose to leave the letter unopened, hoping that at the very least he’d get to open it with his grandfather later that day.

It was days later when Oliver learned of his grandfather’s passing, and the letter remained unopened ever since.

Ever since, he hadn’t given much thought to its contents. Yet he carried it with him to every apartment he had moved into. Like a ghost following him that he simply got used to without ever questioning why. But at this moment, it was as if the seal was calling to him, begging him to finally be opened, to be laid to rest. And he couldn’t deny himself of his curiosity any longer. Grasping the envelope, he carefully pulled up the wax seal, careful as to not rip or tear the aged paper. A breath escaped Oliver as his eyes began following the lines of text.

My dear Oliver,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change…

As he read, Oliver found himself sniffling. The letter perfectly described the rut he was in. As if his grandfather were still comforting him, even after death. He stared at the words for a while, softly smiling before wiping his eyes. He flipped the page over, hoping that his grandfather rambled on longer. And to Oliver’s luck, he did.

I’ve enclosed the deed, my pride and joy: The Gem Berry Farm–

Oliver’s eyes widened before he had even finished the first sentence.

He couldn’t believe what he had just read. He pressed forward in the letter, wondering if his grandfather was going to drop a “just kidding!” on him. A tight grip on the paper braced him for the expected punch in the gut. Maybe he had just misread, or his delirious state completely misconstrued the note. Yet upon rereading, the words remained the same.

The room remained still, his mind blank. Despite having read the paragraphs a dozen times, he was still processing what they were saying. He picked the envelope up and took out the other piece of paper mentioned in the letter. Upon unfolding it, he couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief, finally breaking the silence. The deed to his grandfather’s farm, the haven Oliver couldn’t even begin to imagine, was now in his hands. A goofy grin was plastered on his face as he wiped his eyes, turning to hop into bed. He reached for the laptop he tossed earlier, immediately opening his email. He began typing away, detailing his decision to quit his job in a message to his superiors in an incredibly impulsive and strongly worded email. For once, Oliver felt powerful, and with the adrenaline suddenly rushing throughout, he clicked send without a hint of reluctance.

…

In the remaining days of his time at Joja Corp., Oliver spent most of his time fantasizing about his grandfather’s farm, much to the chagrin of his already annoyed superiors– perhaps the email was too harsh? Nonetheless, the days went by, optimism building up and blurring the slow two weeks building up to his release.

…

Walking into his empty apartment, Oliver set down a box holding whatever he had sitting in his cubicle. He placed it among the other boxes sitting in his living room, which was in the process of being packed away. Approaching his fridge, he habitually reached in for his after-work beer. He cracked it open while looking at the framed image of him and his grandfather, which was now leaning against one of the boxes on the ground. He raised his can to a toast as he grinned at his grandfather before bringing the beer to his lips and turning to the fridge. On it was a handful of magnets holding the contents of his grandfather’s letter. He smiled childishly, reading the back of the letter once more.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my boy. Good luck.

Love,

Grandpa