He was buying, and all this gold he would bury, deep in the cellar of the ghost’s house, the one he had bought, shortly after his trial. He would have his revenge, but, for now, feeling no cold, nor the pinch of hunger, he would sit at his desk, from dawn to dusk, scrutinising the markets, watching the rate, buying.
For the ghost had left him a fortune, and hardly interfered with his life. The house, the cellar, the ghost, the gold… His dream would become true.
Inspired by #fivewords, and the big bubble!
Picture: gold stack, via The Gold War