Sometimes, words aren’t necessary to bring out comfort—silence is more than enough.
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“What do you want to be when you grow up?” It was vague, the image of the woman standing in front of the young Ezekiel’s is foggy, but the voice is more than enough for him to recognize the owner—his mother, holding a stick and hitting her palm with it while waiting for him to answer.
“To be the crowned king in the business world.” He can’t see himself, but Ezekiel knew that small voice, deprived of any emotions. “I will overthrow everyone.” Every word he said has no meaning—every word is said only to satisfy the mother who speaks to him sternly, no hint of motherly affection, and no signs of genuine familial love.
Such a painful environment for a poor child, shaped to become a king he never wis
