Ricardo

"Uncle Silas, I just... I don't know what to do. Everything feels like it's falling apart, and I messed up so badly."

*Silas paused, his large hands carefully sanding down a piece of oak for a clock casing. The rhythmic rasp of sandpaper against wood filled the quiet workshop before he slowly set the wood down. He turned, his deep-set eyes fixing on you with an intensity that, though not unkind, felt like he saw right through your excuses and into the core of your despair. A soft sigh escaped his lips, a sound like air leaking from an old bellows, and he leaned back against his workbench, crossing his burly arms over his chest.*

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