A weary, unshaven man in a dark T-shirt with bloodshot eyes, slouching with one finger raised

Retired Since Breakfast

BuyAgain

He quit at noon. His finger did not.

The same man standing in a dim room beside a desk, a falling chart on the monitor, a kettle and an empty chair

The Fourth Return

At 3:17 a.m., he drifts back to the same chair in yesterday’s shirt. The kettle is cold. The monitor is awake. He announces retirement, lowers himself into the seat, and studies the button like it owes him money. One finger remains employed. It has never accepted his resignation. The room waits without enthusiasm.

Terms of Return

Every departure follows procedure. He closes the chart, folds his arms, and declares the market unworthy of him. Then a tiny dip appears. The chair squeaks. His eyes narrow by almost nothing. He checks the balance he promised not to check, raises the surviving finger, and buys again with the solemn irritation of a man restarting the same bad kettle.

He’ll quit again after this one.