It had been a long night, and Joseph Grant was exhausted. He didn’t bother turning on the lights of his penthouse when he walked in, choosing instead to let his mind and eyes rest in the darkness. He stood at the welcome mat and took a deep, relaxing breath as he willed all thoughts of the outside world to melt out of his pores. Satisfied with his newly slowed heart rate, Grant removed his blazer and tie, placing both on the arms of his kaya-wood coat hanger poised by his front door. He stepped out of his Italian leather loafers, and untucked his shirt.

Though pitch black, Grant could navigate the interior of his penthouse apartment perfectly. It was the result of spending an astronomical amount of money to own as few possession as possible. He’d had the simple lay out memorized like a dance.

Five steps forward, mail table. He didn’t bother leafing through whatever catalogues and paternity suits his assistants had combed through for the day. Two steps forward, eight steps to the right, kitchenette. The marble, tile floor was hard, but so cold that it was a much needed relief on his feet. Five steps forward, three to the left, was his spirit cabinet, so named for its ability to lift his spirits on days like this.

He poured himself a vodka tonic, and found his eyes had finally adjusted to the dark as soon as he reached to bring the glass to his lips. The dull light pollution drifting in from his windows slowly revealed the shape of his apartment. The quiet and still night muted the finer details of his furnishings, but to Grant it was the perfect lighting. He no longer walked blindly through his home, but he wasn’t assaulted by harsh light either. The darkness and silence relaxed him.

Grant decided to finish his nightly ritual in the typical fashion. He walked from the kitchen to the window on the far side of the main room. He didn’t even think of sitting in the designer recliners or couches as he passed them. Grant didn’t even hesitate at the large, 5KHD television when it entered his line of sight. He wanted relaxation more than he wanted further distraction, and he would only get that by viewing the Gotham skyline.

Grant didn’t open the blinds immediately. He took a moment to bathe in the faint glow slipping through. This, he thought, was the most calm he’d ever be. Grant’s life was too hectic. Even vacations to island paradises weren’t enough to relax him. Massages from fine beauties, a stroll on the green, not even a leisurely afternoon at the theater calmed him. Grant could only feel at peace when there was a vodka tonic in his hand as he gazed at the manufactured constellations of Gotham against the black night.

Retrieving his phone from his pocket, Grant ordered the blinds of his apartment open…

Continued in CH 7.2