Mr. Sanchez walked through an opened mahogany door, which shut and locked behind him. He looked back at the door even though he know that would happen.

He looked around. The house had been rearranged slightly. He couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly was rearranged, however.

Mr. Sanchez walked through the living room, and out an open sliding glass door to a very old man reading a book. “Hello-” the man cut Mr. Sanchez off. “I heard you come in you don’t have to greet.” the man said.

Mr. Sanchez looked at the man ignore him. “Hello, dad.” Mr. Sanchez said.

The man loudly shut his book, took a very long inhale that took about five seconds, and then an even longer exhale that drilled into Mr. Sanchez’s skin. The man motioned to the seat on the other side of a small wooden table. “Please, have a seat.” He sarcastically said.

Mr. Sanchez obliged, and casually sat down and crossed his right ankle over his left leg. “How has this place been treating you?” Mr. Sanchez asked the man, attempting to make eye contact. “Terrible.” the man picked up a tea cup and saucer sipped some of it’s contents. He held the cup and saucer resting on his lap. “Good.” Mr. Sanchez said, turning to look out at the view of some kind of mountains. “That’s the point.”

The man obnoxiously sipped more of his tea, and set the cup and saucer on the table. “How long has it been since your last visit?” the man asked out of curiosity. Mr. Sanchez made eye contact for the first time with the man. “Three months.” Mr. Sanchez said.

The man broke eye contact and slowly shook his head, “God, it seems like forever.” he remarked.

“That is also intentional.” Mr. Sanchez said, still attempting to make eye contact.

“How far down am I?” the man asked.

“What?” Mr. Sanchez didn’t understand the question.

“How far below the surface did you put me down?” the man clarified.

Mr. Sanchez paused for a second, “Nineteen kilometers.” he said.

“Why so far down?” the man asked. “Scared of me?”

“Yes, that and this cell was built specifically for you, I didn’t have any other place to put it.” Mr. Sanchez explained.

Mr. Sanchez gave up on making eye contact and looked out at the view again. “Still pretending to be a kid?” the man degraded. “You know, when I was in charge, doing that would get you thrown in here.”

“But I’m not the one in here, you are.” Mr. Sanchez talked back.

“And why is that?” the man didn’t really know where he was going with this. “You committed treason, remember?” Mr. Sanchez berated.

“You know that’s-” Mr. Sanchez cut in, “…debatable? You shot five people.”

“Allegedly.”

“We found plans on your computer. You wanted to destroy… everything.”

“You know, when you were actually that age,” the man said, motioning to Mr. Sanchez’s body, “I built the entire Insurance Company from the ground up, now I barely even recognize any of it.”

“And you almost destroyed it.” Mr. Sanchez pointed out, as he looked over at the man.

Out of anger, the man nabbed the teacup and saucer, and threw then directly at Mr. Sanchez’s face. The teacup, saucer, and the tea all slowed down in the air in the middle of the two men. The objects floated around aimlessly. “You forgot about that too? Wow, you must really be getting old.” Mr. Sanchez said.

The man and Mr. Sanchez looked at each other through the floating tea and dishware. Both of them spoke essays to each other without saying a word.

“It’s getting cold.” the man said, referring to the tea. “You’re the one who threw it.” Mr. Sanchez said. Both of the men kept looking at each other, not making any accommodations for the things obstructing their vision. “I came to tell you that you’re dying. The doctors say that you have something around eight months left.” Mr. Sanchez said. “Of course that will feel like twenty years or so, but, now you know.”

The man kept eye contact.

Mr. Sanchez grabbed the teacup and started carefully collecting the floating globs of tea, “This is the last time I’ll see you.” Mr. Sanchez grabbed the saucer out of the air, and handed both it and the cup back to the man. The man sipped some of the tea as he looked off into the landscape.

Mr. Sanchez stood up, and started to head towards the door he came in. His footsteps were really loud and almost bothering to him as he walked on the near-creaky wooden floors. The once small house was very, very expansive; as well as hostile. Mr. Sanchez finally placed his hand on the stainless-steel door handle, which detected his presence, and unlocked and opened for him. He walked through the door into a hallway that had five guards on each side, all facing away from the door, and all carrying a fully-automatic weapon.

Mr. Sanchez got on the elevator that had been waiting for him, and lean-sat up against the back railing. The elevator door closed, and started moving up, very quickly. Mr. Sanchez looked around the elevator out of boredom. There was nothing but the railings around the car, and the door - he hadn’t ever noticed.