Father's Keepsake

The first time he saw him was at his father's wedding. Standing beside the already elderly man was a thin, pale, fragile, exquisite young man.

Like a lily secretly blooming in midsummer, he had unfurled the purest white petals in this filthy, muddy world.

His slender stem strained toward the sun, yet could not protect its own purity. It only made people want to hold it in their hands and snap it in two.

As he listened to the congratulations around him, the young man whom he was supposed to call his stepfather wore a strained smile. The heartbreak in his eyes seemed ready to spill over, stirring an inexplicable ache in the heart.

Coroll raised his wineglass, looking the young man up and down across the crowd.

Some said he had been forced into it, threatened by his family and made to clip his own wings before being locked in a cage.

Others said he had done it for power and money, for wealth.

Coroll didn't know, and he didn't understand him.

The second time they met was at his own father's funeral.

The man was still thin and frail, dressed in white, but something in his eyes had changed.

Stepdad, literary fiction!!!!!!

If you're reading a trashy premise like this, don't nitpick.

Premise: A world of love and acceptance