Bradley Prescott Lawson III: A Short Story

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Stiff and exhausted Bradley slowly rose from his office chair, the legs, making a gentle squeak as he stood up on his feet. He ran his hand through his brown gelled hair taking a quick sigh of exhaustion. He looked to his left analyzing the maelstrom of documents and letters, “I feel quite gutted” Bradley said. Glancing over his name tag reading “Bradley Prescott Lawson III”, he thought to himself about all the stress that running a trading business on the dock creates. Grasping his tie, he tried to ignore the overbearing amount of work that lies upon his desk. His attention was suddenly diverted to an abandoned-looking fishing pole sitting in the corner of his office. Assessing the mysterious pole Bradley's mind started to haul old memories
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