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He was old, tired.

The system he had fought to uphold when his bones did not ache had long since abandoned him to a life of hardship.

Where were the welfare payments?

Where was the pension?

Where is the healthcare?

Now he earns his keep cleaning floors for a bank.

His medals sit on his fireplace, collecting dust and such.

Still, somewhere in that husk of a man, there is a man of faith and dignity.

But mostly, of hope.

Of hope that good things DO come to people who wait.

And so he bides his time, waiting for his reward after a life of servitude.

Perhaps maybe the Almighty will bestow fortune on him.

---

The morning was so fine he nearly forgot he had to work.

The scent of the hyacinths outside his window lazily lofted in, and he closed his eyes in silent contemplation.

He was rudely interrupted by a call, and when he picked it up, the voice on the end of the line told him he had no work today - the bank he worked it was closed.

He smiled - things were looking up.

He decided to have a slow day, staying at home and taking in life's little offerings.

After brewing himself a cup of tea, he went to collect his mail.

He was rudely brought back to earth after he looked through the letters he had received.

Bills, bills, bills.

He sighed.

Maybe he was being too optimistic about his day.

Or his life, for that matter.

Finally, he reached the letter at the bottom of the pile.

It was addressed to him in standard font, and curiously he opened it.

As he read the first few lines, his heart began to pound faster and faster.

His eyes lit up and he knocked his cup of tea off the table.

He started tearing up, and fell to the ground, kissing the letter.

Finally God decided to give him a break.

He read the first few lines of the letter again.

"Hello dear sir, my name is Arinumbu Karilundunda, the CEO of the Nigerian National Bank..."

His life would never be the same.