Sweet Dreams
a deep voice calls out, calm, confident.
“Nineteen million!” another man counters, paddle raised high, eyes locked on the auctioneer.
“Twenty million!” The voice cracks slightly, but the paddle doesn’t waver.
“Twenty- two million!” A sharp, clipped call from a new bidder, deliberate, precise.
“Twenty- three million!” The words echo across the hall, loud and clear, each syllable deliberate, like a drumbeat marking territory.
The announcer’s voice carries over the microphone, smooth but firm: “Twenty- three million, do I hear twenty- four?”