Tomorrow Never Came. I spent my whole life running somewhere. I worked myself to the bone, took double shifts, stayed up nights. I kept telling my family: 'Just hold on, once we pay off our debts and close the mortgage, we will really live! Then we will go on vacation, go to the park, and have plenty of time to talk.' I literally gave away my years to bosses, clients, and creditors, hoping to buy back at least a piece of happiness from the future. Today I finally paid off the last bill. I came home early, full of energy, and shouted from the doorway: 'That is it, I am free! Get ready, we are going for a walk!' But I heard only silence in response. My son grew up and moved away long ago; he calls once a month and politely asks about my health. And my wife looked at me with tired, burnt-out eyes and asked: 'What for? I do not want to go to the park anymore. I just want to sleep.' In the pursuit of 'providing for life,' I spent life itself. It turned out that it takes too much time preparing for a celebration that, in the end, there is simply no one left to celebrate with.