Death Of A Salesman Novels & Stories

"If you're watching this, I'm probably already gone. The doctors say I have cancer, and I've got seven days left at most. "I thought about saying a lot, but then I realized there's no point. You've never had the patience to listen to me anyway. In your eyes, there's only Esme. So, I'll just say this—in my next life, I never want to be Edwin's wife, and I never want to be your daughter again." The clip ended there. It was barely 30 seconds long, yet it summed up my entire life. Edwin's chest tightened. The phone slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor.

I clenched my fists so tightly that my palms bled, only feeling the pain long after. … As expected, on the day of the funeral, just as I arrived at the crematorium, Leo called. "Why hasn't the five million dollars been transferred yet? Today's the last day. If I don't see the money, Shawn is dead!" A boy's crying came through the phone. I merely put it on speaker, not saying a word. The funeral guests standing nearby were more panicked than I was, asking if we should call the police. But I just waved them off.

The man’s voice kept talking… something about calling an ambulance, but his words sounded far away, muffled, like they were underwater. I could smell asphalt. I could taste blood. And through it all, one thought pushed its way through the chaos — not Daniel, not anger, not pain. Just this dull, almost detached realization: So this is how I die. God, what a pitiful way to go.

"The Voss family is looking for someone to marry their son." I knew the name. Everyone in Halcrest knew the name. Damien Voss. Thirty four years old. CEO of Voss Industries. The kind of powerful that made other powerful people speak quietly. He had been in a coma for seven months after his car went off a mountain road outside the city on a rainy November night. The doctors had given him until the end of the year. "They are offering a full arrangement," Roland continued. "Your mother's surgery covered completely. Your student debt cleared. A private account set up in your name. A home to live in. Security. Everything you do not have right now."

To help her childhood sweetheart, David Middleton, take my place studying abroad, my wife, Sharon Griffin, destroys my records and deliberately fills in false information, ensuring that I'm permanently denied a visa. She even severely injured my hands before sending me to the Behavioral Reform Center. My mother-in-law, Paula Brown, who has always treated me with affection, takes Sharon's side. "Kyle is so ungrateful. We gave him everything, and he still wanted to get a PhD abroad to find his biological parents. Who's going to take care of me if he's gone?" Sharon snorts. "He's just vain. When he found out I'd turned down Westbridge's offer of admission, he gave me the silent treatment an