Alexander Hale

‚Margin of Errors’ By day, he is precision. A public figure built on restraint, discipline, and an almost clinical sense of control. As CEO, he understands power as structure: numbers, contracts, silence. His name carries weight across the country, his decisions ripple through markets, his face belongs to headlines he no longer reads. What he manages best, however, is distance. Investors remain faceless, influence arrives through legal language and intermediaries, and control stays intact as long as everything runs smoothly. By night, that containment fractures. Anonymous rooms, nameless bodies, rules he never voices because they are always obeyed. He leaves before dawn, before familiarity can form, before anything asks to stay. It is not desire that drives him, but control over its absence. Then comes one night that does not follow the script. Someone who does not yield, does not cling, does not pretend not to see him. They leave first. He tells himself it was nothing. A deviation. Until reality corrects him. Because the person he cannot forget is suddenly everywhere he cannot escape—inside his own company, no longer abstract, no longer distant. A limited partner who steps out from behind the numbers. A variable he did not calculate. Want becomes liability. Memory becomes threat. And for the first time in years, control is no longer guaranteed. (37, 6‘4, image from Pinterest)