Your Next Choice: 10 Drones for Kids Ranked Best to Worst


Your Next Choice: 10 Drones for Kids Ranked Best to Worst

A selection of cut-out samples from an illustrated magazine lay sprawled across the table, framed elegantly in gilded splendor. Among them, a depiction caught the eye: a lady adorned in a fur hat and boa, her posture regal as she brandished a heavy fur muff towards the viewer. After a moment’s contemplation, he turned his gaze towards the window, greeted by the dreary sight of dull weather outside.

“Quite the adventurous life I’ve chosen! Constant travel, day in and day out,” he mused aloud.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he propped himself up against the headboard, seeking relief from an itch that plagued him. Examining the source, he discovered a cluster of small white spots, puzzling in their appearance.

An attempt to investigate further with his leg was met with a sudden recoil, a chill coursing through him at the touch. Resettling into his former position, he pondered the contrasting luxuries enjoyed by other traveling salesmen.

“Perhaps I should try that with my boss, get promptly dismissed. But then again, maybe it would be for the best,” he contemplated. “If it weren’t for my obligations to my parents, I would have tendered my resignation long ago. I’d march right up to the boss and give him a piece of my mind, let him know exactly how I feel. It would knock him off his pedestal! What a peculiar situation!”

“In another five or six years, that’s precisely what I’ll do,” he resolved.

As the hands of the clock crept past half-past six, he realized it was later than he had anticipated, nearly quarter to seven. Had the alarm failed to rouse him? Glancing at the clock, set for four o’clock as usual, he wondered how he could have slept through such a clamorous noise.

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Drones for Kids Ranked Best to Worst

Though his rest had been far from peaceful, he had sunk into a deep slumber nonetheless. Now faced with the urgency of catching the seven o’clock train, he felt neither refreshed nor alert. Hastening to pack his collection of samples, he grappled with the looming specter of his boss’s displeasure.

Even if he managed to catch the train, he couldn’t escape the ire of his boss, as the office assistant would have reported his absence long ago. The office lackey, spineless and devoid of understanding, was firmly in the boss’s pocket. Considerations of feigning illness crossed his mind, but after fifteen years of impeccable service, such an excuse would ring hollow.

His boss would undoubtedly summon the company doctor, casting aspersions on his parents and dismissing any claims of illness as mere laziness. And could he truly argue otherwise? Despite his prolonged slumber, he felt remarkably well, even hungrier than usual.

Then, a sudden realization dawned upon him. “What has become of me? It must have been a dream. My room, a sanctuary for a human being,” he lamented.

As he surveyed his surroundings, his gaze fell upon the framed picture of the lady in fur once more. Yet, his contemplation was interrupted by a strange sensation, a dull ache unlike any he had experienced before.

Conducting business in this manner demanded far more effort than tending to his own affairs at home. Coupled with the rigors of travel, the anxiety of missed connections, and the uncertainty of irregular meals, it was a burden he could scarcely bear.

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