He used to take pride in what he had. Everything always went his way: the praise from his family, the admiring glances and words of idolization from the neighbors; it was all very surreal. It almost felt as if the world was his playground, and whatever he did had its blessing.
He might have said some words of pride… some words somewhere before all this… I wonder what he would say now.
All it took was one mistake, one misstep, one error, and all he had built crumbled like a sandcastle. The words of praise turned into mocking whispers, and the gazes of admiration turned into poisonous contempt. It was almost as if the world was against his very existence; it was all very surreal.