The Fool's Gold

Three Memories

Emmett sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the ornate wallpaper that lined his room, its intricate patterns blurring together as his mind wandered.

The evening shadows lengthened, casting a gloomy pallor over his face, and the flickering light of the lamp beside him danced across his features, accentuating the turmoil etched on his face.

He reached for a bottle of whiskey he had hidden in his nightstand, the glass clinking against the wood as he poured himself a generous measure.

As he took a swig, the fiery liquid burned down his throat, mirroring the turmoil inside him, and he winced, feeling the sting of both the whiskey and his own self-doubt.

"How useless am I?" he muttered to himself, the bitterness in his voice stark against the silence of the room, which seemed to swallow his words whole. "My own parents had to adopt someone else without even asking me. Just how worthless have I become?"

The words hung in the air, a challenge to the shadows that seemed to closing