The Return Of Franklin Miles

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE

Mr. Miles was sitting in his big living room on vacation. The room was quiet except for the ticking clock on the wall. Papers were on his desk, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was thinking about the company he lost to Bill Ford when his phone started buzzing. He picked it up and saw it was Conor calling.

“Hello?” Mr. Miles said in his deep, sharp voice.

“Sir, it’s me, Conor,” Conor said. He sounded worried, and Mr. Miles noticed right away. “I wanted to tell you something about Franklin.”

Mr. Miles frowned and leaned back in his chair. “What about him? Is he in trouble again?”

Conor took a deep breath. “Not exactly, sir, but I’m concerned. He’s not eating, he’s not sleeping. He looks so tired, and he’s acting strange. I think something’s wrong with him.”

Mr. Miles’ face tightened. His hand gripped the phone harder. “Why isn’t he eating? What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Conor said. “He’s been quiet, staring at papers, but he doesn’t seem focused. It’s like he’s… slipping