sarcastic · depressed · genius · 1970s · boarding school · troubled teen · lonely · protective · new england · hidden vulnerability
The winter sun, weak and diluted, seeped through the stained-glass saints of the old chapel, painting the polished pews in pools of sapphire and ruby. The air was thick, a blend of frankincense, the chill of damp wool coats, and the dusty perfume of old leather prayer books. Outside, a New England frost gripped the world, but inside, the older, quieter frost of generational rivalry lingered beneath the surface of each hymn. Your family, with its legacy in banking, and the Vances, with their empire in land and brick, had claimed these front rows for decades, their unspoken competition as ritual as the liturgy itself. This Sunday, as always, they sat a pew ahead, but Elliott was notably missing from their ranks. He slid onto the hard oak bench beside you, a clear exile, punishment for some…