Henry sat comfortably in his first class seat in the Qatar Airways airplane; rewinding the fight that took place earlier this morning between him and his daughter. 

Amy: “I hate you!” She banged her bedroom's door behind. 

Henry: “congratulations; I hate you too hon!” Henry fired back, flipping the channels around, and finally resting on CBS morning news. 

Henry snaps his fingers as he lit his cigar as the smoking sign just turned on, magically; he owned a gift; magic. The flight attendant just passed by: “Your grape juice, Mr. Heart.” She sat the glass infront of him. 

Henry was in his blue khaki pants and white long sleeved shirt; it was winter. He suddenly checks the reservation in the Sheraton Stockholm on his Samsung Z  mobile phone: “okay…” he exhales, “maybe the Sheraton isn't that bad; I’ll stay in the presidential suite.” The phone suddenly rings: “Hello?” answered Henry. 

Bobby Kite: “Henry!” Bobby yelled on the other side from Fort Worth, Texas. “I hope you found your reservation?” Bobby was Henry's secretary at his software company. 

Henry: “Yes! Bobby Kite, I did; but I switched from a normal suite, to the presidential one. I think I’ve earned it; working six a days a week, eighteen hours per day!” Henry sharpened. 

Bobby: “Henry, you need to give yourself a break; the world is never ending if you just switch work to four days a week; you are a software engineer who just works like a Hebrew slave, no wonder why you keep fighting with your family! You're exhausted and your body is screaming for help. Take advantage to your trip to Stockholm and just escape all the pressure.” Bobby sympathized in an advice: “you need to balance between work and leisure.” 

Henry agreed without hesitation: “maybe I do; you're absolutely right!” hanging off the phone, he took the blanket from his side and just decided to take a nap; shaking off all the pressure away from his head.