Adam could feel the heat. Strong heat waves hit at him furiously—it was nothing he had experienced before. Never had he been surrounded by a desert—dry, hot, and sandy, where he couldn’t see much farther across the winding dunes of sand. There was nothing but the desert and the smoldering sun. He gulped and tried to moisten his tongue, but his saliva became thicker like wallpaper paste, as if his body had suddenly refused to produce it. He scrambled towards the sun to look for a way out of this hell. He walked and walked, but there was seemingly no end to it—just dry, hot desert sand everywhere.
Suddenly, he saw a hut; a small bright structure emerging out of the blue, right in front of him. The smile that cracked his face hadn't been there since his boyhood. He just had a good feeling about this hut, nothing that felt this right could possibly be wrong. It just couldn't. He wasn’t feeling tired or thirsty anymore—the mere sight of the hut made him energetic and strong. 
He walked to the door of the small hut made of wood painted white, with finely-engraved flowers—the knob was a big round flower. The door creaked open before he could even reach the knob. A fresh, cool breeze came from inside, and he could smell the pleasant scent.
He went in and found it empty, except for a small round table in the center of the room. The walls were bare and there were no windows. He moved towards the table, almost as if an invisible force was pulling him in its direction. On the table was an object—a book. A book out of which light shone out, a light so strong that it blinded him; calling him, daring him to touch it. He reached out his hand tentatively...
... and ...
Something slimy and sticky blocked his view. He urged to get rid of it and brushed his hands over his face. It oozed over his eyes and mouth, crawling smoothly into his pores. He opened his eyes and saw Wild, who was licking his face off. Shivering and all wet with sweat Adam found himself on his bed. Bright sunlight streamed in through the large windows in his room, although the sun was only above the horizon yet the windows of his penthouse were able to get them through. He stayed like that for a few minutes, musing on the dream. 
“Oh, Wild, that was only a dream,” Adam patted his dog, “and I’ll be late if I don’t get up.”
He got out of the bed and glanced at his watch; it was past seven o’clock in the morning, and he had a nine o’clock meeting with his lawyer; the purposeof which he couldn’t understand. 
“I want to meet you tomorrow at my office. It's urgent,” the lawyer had said when he called the day before.
“What's the urgency, Mark? I don’t seem to have any legal problems. Or do I? That I don't know of yet?” he had inquired.
“Well, look, Adam, its complicated! I can’t tell you on the phone. I have to meet you in person.”
Adam was confused but he had said yes anyway, settling to meet Mark in his office at nine o’clock the next morning. The lawyer was his childhood friend, Mark Devin—the son of his father’s friend, and his family lawyer Devin Anderson; the only person in this world whom his father was close friends with. Adam’s father, David, had worked mostly from his home office, as he was comfortable with it. Being a single parent, he had to run the company and take care of his only son Adam simultaneously. Adam and Mark had played together often; back then Mark was his only companion. His father was always busy making money. His mother—well, he had never seen her in his life. He always wondered what his mother would be like and how life would have been with her being around, caring for him, listening to his stories, giving him a shoulder to cry on. Then after his father left him alone in this world, he had stopped thinking about them. He engrossed himself in his own life, leaving all the relations behind. Working for himself. Living for himself. 
“Here you go.”
Adam gave Wild his breakfast and walked towards the door. The dog moaned and started eating. As soon as he opened the door, right in front of him stood the girl, not a girl,  the  girl, who called herself Anna. She lived one story below, always coming by, willing to provide help, letting herself in, and making his life a lot more vexatious. 
“Hi, I’ve bought fresh homemade waffles. I gathered you’d like them,” Anna said.
Exasperated, he took the platter and without saying a word, slammed the door in her face. He went inside and without even taking a glance at the tray he tossed it into the bin . H e turned and let his eyes slide across the reflection of his cold, uncaring self. 
At almost eight thirty, he started the engine of his car with a frown on his face, still frustrated about the rushed meeting, and headed towards Mark’s office.