Another Short Piece of Fiction...

As Jacob Sizemore laid on his deathbed, he recounted all of the important moments of his life. His first woman, the first time he had one hundred dollars in his wallet, his first car. His first jet, his sixty-ninth automobile, his first bank, his twelfth wife. He recalled all of these things, and fondly. He had figured it all out, and now he was just waiting for the next big adventure, because after all, he had everything one could possibly desire. Jacob could never see or truly know that for every excessive possession he allowed himself, he was denying another man a fair life. He could never feel this, because his sense of happiness was so dulled by all of his things. Only the strong survive, after all. It's a crazy world, and one must cut throats to survive. Nice guys finish last, after all. He never once took time to regard those outside of his circle: a "circle" which if given physical form would have been arguably as small as his own silhouette. As he exhaled his very last breath, he saw a brilliant blinding light. The light became dimmer and dimmer at an alarming rate; it was being reflected by all of his gilded belongings.