Harken watched the car go, tears gliding down as he watching it become smaller and smaller, drowning out his fathers lecture, and talk of getting him a therapist. He got up and ran up the stairs.
"I hate you!" he screamed, slamming his door and locking it.
(Let's change it to 25. I don't want them to be in college.....)
Harken, now 25 years old, sat alone in an old coffee shop. He had denied taking the company from his father, and instead became an artist. He still had his long white hair, and was still gay, just not as likely to show it. The only things that really changed were he looked older, and he had grown to be 5'9". He sighed, sipping his drink until it was empty. He walked out, tossing the cup in the trash, and walked down to the nearest book store.