Wonder • Five Hargreeves

02

We only see each other at Weddings and Funerals

Winnie Hargreeves was not surprised when word of her fathers death reached her. She was actually notably numb to the experience.

She had been sitting in front of her latest work when the announcement crackled over her old radio- interrupting her favorite jazz song.

"The eccentric billionaire, Sir Reginald Hargreeves, has died." The announcer said.

Winnie took a long sip of tea with an incredible amount of apathy and disinterest. She set her tea cup down onto the metal cart beside her and pulled herself from her chair.

All around her were clutters of dazzling canvases and half finished works, ranging in size and subjects. They propped against the walls of her industrial studio apartment, not hanging in pride- but on the floor in haphazard display.

Winnie didn't really care about her projects once she moved on from them. All she cared about was her current work.

The painting she had previously been staring at, stood tall on a easel. It was giant- almost touching the ceiling- and was painted in her distinctive chaotic way.

She had finished that painting yesterday morning, and discerned its meaning many hours ago.

Winnie moved briskly across her apartment. She threw herself onto the lonely bed in the far corner; face first.

She was tired.

Across the room and on that grainy wood easel was the reason for her sudden fatigue. It was also the reason for her apathy and disinterest in the announcement of her fathers death.

The painting was of a skeleton with a cracked monocle. Red smatterings accented the background, where the white bones stood pronounced, making it incredibly vivid. It was horrific, sad, and so amazingly beautiful. (A little cliche, too, if she was being honest.)

It was her father, and his inevitable death.

"Time to go home." She said into her covers. The sound was muffled by the layers of fabric and only reached to her own ears.

•

"Diego!" The platinum blonde shouted in excitement. A goofy grin stuck onto her face as soon as she looked up at the man.

Despite being born on the same day, Winnie looked drastically younger. Of course she always looked younger than the others, but it was getting ridiculous now.

A 30 year old Diego stared down at the girl he knew to be his sister, but still the beautiful teenager from many years ago.

"Winnie." He greeted with a smile. The aforementioned girl leapt forward and wrapped Diego in a hug.

"You didn't die in a battle of good and evil!" She exclaimed happily. If her sentence had off-put him, it didn't show.

"And you didn't get yourself kidnapped by wealthy Art enthusiasts." He replied back easily.

Despite how odd their sentiments sounded, neither party noticed. It was said in such deep adoration that it was more like saying "look how big you've gotten!" to any normal person.

"Nope. Although I did come very close." Winnie said, pulling away. Her grin never faltered, but Diegos did. He squinted and shook his head.

"Kid, you might be the death of me." Diego scoffed and pulled her under his arm for a nuggie.

Her pin-straight hair became messy and she laughed loudly. Diego was struck with a sense of nostalgia. He didn't care for many people, but Winnie was definitely one of them.