At dawn, sunshine dispersed the gloom around Langley Airport, where rows of fighter jets and the world-renowned Air Force One were parked.
Nett had survived another day.
Gazing at his own reflection, he spat out the mouthwash.
As people age, their sleep often deteriorates. He frequently woke in the middle of the night, struggling to fall back asleep before eventually drifting off again.
Nett washed his face with a towel. His wrinkled face and withered hands stirred a sense of disgust, a feeling that persisted even through the fabric. This was especially true when he saw the photograph beside the mirror, preserving an image of his younger self.
Looking again at his current reflection, he understood how merciless the years could be.
Setting down the towel, Nett turned and walked outside to the dining area of Air Force One.
On the table were fried eggs, ham, and a cup of hot milk—Nett's breakfast.
