Work Text:
>>Be the Heir to a corporation
Sometimes you think you remember too much. Or that you think too much. Or feel too much. It’s a lesson Mother drilled into you from day one. Your first real memory of her is her snapping at you as you squirmed and squeaked in your high chair. You think you were trying to get her attention or something. You finally got it when she screamed at you to be quiet, picking you up and placing you in your crib, then left. She didn’t come back in until your father was alone with you. Quietly soothing you and patiently rocking you in his strong arms. His apologies were soft and quiet,
”Sorry old boy, shes just in a foul mood these days.”
He sighed. When Father left, Mother entered with a simpler apology. “
I'm sorry,Tavros.
” She sighed,”
I hope you can forgive me.
” Then she left without even giving you a kiss on the forehead.
You realize now that it’s not that you remember too much, nor that you think too much, nor that you feel too much. It’s that you talk too much.