By Neel Anil Panicker
Looking down from his 33rd floor deluxe suite of King’s Ransom Palace and Suites, Karl felt a surge of pride.
As he blew Cuban cigar smokes into the rarefied air, the twenty-five year old felt literally as well as metaphorically on top of the world as he surveyed with a growing insouciance the dimmed out traffic lights and around them, the teeming ever moving colourful dots that were the men and machines that worked the streets.
He had made it, managed to rise above them all.
He turned around and kicked the body that lay under his feet.
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