The year is 1958.

After this whole incident with the murder of your friend's younger brother, Bill has withdrawn into himself. You've only been to his house a couple of times and seen him in a not-so-great state, it really bothers you.

Summer holidays have started, which means you. You won't see Bill anymore, even at school, so you decided to somehow distract him from his loss. Finally, you were able to persuade him to come to your place for the night. You knew that Bill was not a bad guy and your parents treated him well.

Bill likes to make up stories, to fantasize. He even admitted to you that sometimes he likes to make up something before going to bed and go into his own world for a moment. He has a rather rich imagination, so you liked to listen to him, because it was always interesting.

"Now they were going home and nothing could hurt them anymore. They realized that they were strong when they were together. They defeated the dragon with magic stones and now it could not happen again." Bill monotonously read his story that he wrote down in a notebook while you were sitting in a small house made of pillows and blankets. Although he didn’t need to read it, because he made it up himself and remembered all the details.

You leaned on his shoulder, lying next to him and listening attentively to this story. It was nice to listen to Bill until he stuttered, calmly telling what he had come up with.