Klint Hynes D12 CB (Fin)

Marbled counters, echoed wealth. There are secrets to every cent of a rich man.

Yet, I grow with a silver spoon in my mouth and vast amount of wealthy options for the future, I still choose labor over name given wealth. Our home grows quiet with marbled counters and tiled floors. Empty walls of nothingness decorated with artistic pursuits of struggling people trying to get by. I'm not like them as I stare at the latest addition of nothingness. Praise comes from them, but I see nothing more than a waste of time and money. A waste of things that his rents never truly had, at least, in the right way. Wealth given to generation and generation of Hynes like it truly belonged to them.

I've never been like them.

That wealth was never going to be mine to take.

Instead, I tell my father that I'm going to leave the mansion's walls. I tell him of how I want to find my own path that doesn't belong to a namesake. Father and mother both question my ideals, but they don't bother telling me no. Instead, my father breaks the portrait of me that was made when I was barely able to walk. The cries of my mother as she watches the clothes covered in this district's fool's gold on my back as feet take me away from the place I come back to late at night.

"Do you even know what time it is!"

"Yes. Work is long."

Nothing more is said beyond that. Chilling air finally beneath arms that spread into wings. The freedom of being like a bird fills through my chest and I can feel like the silver spoon under my tongue is no longer there. Whispers of him on the public's tongues; like I'm not listening to them. A rich son working in the coal mines were unheard of according to the rich friends of the rents. Ignoring their every word, feet take me away from the marbled counters and echoed wealth.

We don't talk of my spread wings; instead we talk like the nothingness on the walls.

Empty and pointless.