"I am showered in gold, and somehow wonder if it is coal which lays around me- if only it were, if only I could afford that warmth."
- Ezra Gates.
"- my father and I, came from nothing. Now look, Ezra. This is the result of hard work."
Ezra nodded.
Together, they lay out in the blazing sun. Together, on their sun loungers. Looking out on their grand pool, or their view of the hills.
"Who do you want to be Erza?" Her father questioned.
Ezra turned her head.
"Me."
Her father chuckled. But Ezra was confused.
"So who are you?"
"I'm a seventeen-year-old, who's having a midlife crisis," Ezra responded.
"Oh, Ezra."
Her mother emerged from the house-
Caring. Perfect. There.
She gave her father a cocktail, and she sat down by his side.
"You're not in any crisis Ezra," said her father. "Look at your life. What could possibly be in a crisis?"
Ezra did not speak again. Her parents branched off into their own conversation.
Ezra looked at the pool.
Suddenly she was in the pool. Drowning. Metaphorically, of course. Because then maybe someone may listen-
In the house of money is happiness- there has to be. It is the only way. In a life filled with wealth is happiness- there has to be. It is the only way. In an age so grandeur and free is happiness- there has to be. It is the only way.
You get it right? There has to be. It is the only way.
Ezra found a new way. A way undiscovered. A way unspoken of. Unappreciated.
She understood why. Why it is wrong to feel so... wrong. Often she would think of the unfortunate. Often she did not have to look far. But that feeling. That endless, hallowing feeling- it doesn't go. But a new one comes. Guilt- and like the pool, it very much drowns her.
In such a house with such a life at such an age, Ezra must act accordingly. Accordingly- it isn't forceful. No, it is expected. And in such a house with such a life at such an age, Ezra felt irrationally confused.
Deep down. Far, far down. Ezra knows, her house could fall like a house of cards. Her life could declare bankruptcy. And her age. It rises. She grows up, and soon, her grandeur and supposedly freeing age will catch its worst years.
Perhaps it is not metaphoric, Ezra. Perhaps you are chasing something deep down. Far, far down.
YOU ARE READING
The Strays
Teen Fiction*Disclaimer this is a first, unedited draft; reader's discretion is advised* Guided by letters from the past, after being separated from their other half, The Stray's knitted friendship journey through their last, unknowing summer being as they had...
