The Tycoon's Heavy Clip
Mr. Molapo walks around like wealth wears him instead of the other way round. His platinum money clip- Lord, that thing shines like a stolen sunrise. People sat you can see your future in it's glare if you're foolish enough to look.
But the old folk, the ones who saw Jozi rise and fall and rise again, know better. Auntie Mavis always says her beer," That clip weighs exactly what he stole from the boy he never hired." And everyone nods, because scandals travel faster than taxis.
Molapo's bacj bends slowly, day by day. Rich as he is, he moves like a man carrying a wet quilt of guilt. Deals he closed too quickly. Promises he broke too easily. Lives he ruined too casually.
His clip grows heavier each year- only he can feel the weight, but everyone can see the slump.
Then one day, a thin child picks up a coin that slips from the tycoon's overloaded clip. The coin weighs nothing in her hand. She pockets it and speeds away like a rumour.
Molapo watches her go, unable to straighten up anymore.
His back stays bent.
His pride stays pinned.
His wealth stays welded to his spine.
Some riches rise you.
Some riches ruin you.
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