Silas constructed his empire with meticulous effort. From the depths of obscurity arose a prominent figure, hired hands at his beck and call, because of the deals created and the bricks stacked on top of one another. Before taking a step into the spotlight, Silas ensured that he monitored his dialogue and made sure to extend his hand toward the right shoulders. An all-knowing name was brought into being – built by the soft whispers in the boundless boardrooms and foretold within the fresh newspapers.

The skyline reveled in his everything at the present time, as he enjoyed watching the city through his penthouse glasses, alongside sipping off of a crystal tumbler. Then came the revelations. The walls came crashing down. He found himself plagued by misplaced trust time and again. He had built his signature on the wrong place too many times. Glass came shattering down, and the promises he irrationally made throughout his existence went up in smoke. Once dotted with admiration, his name left him powerless to carry the weight lurking above him to unmask.

Over the next few months, he received calls less and less until they ceased to come altogether. Glass came shattering everywhere, along with all the promises made within the hollowed-out office. The world had pulled itself forward and left Silas behind. The empire he had created so constructively now crumbled under him as he gandered through the ruthlessly silent city. Shores did not break, neither did the populace bow like they once used to.

Bitter and hopeless, Silas laughed to himself. His seat was sculptured splendidly. But adorned in the wretched fallacy of never being viewed as having plush pillows, Silas now pushed himself over the cliff.