Amidst the buzz of the fort, Midas sought refuge in a quiet corner of the Research and Technology Division building. He sat cross-legged, his back leaning on the cold hard wall and ground, his eyes closed, hands resting on his knees and breathing steady. Everything around him became a distant hum as he delved into the realm of meditation.
Midas sat there, each inhalation of his drawing a breath of cool air, refreshening his body. Each exhalation was relieving, easing the tension that had woven its way into the fabric of his being. He was mindful of everything happening to him, and his cyclic breathing was a tether that kept him in the moment, ever-present.
