It was the third time in the week that your son Hobie had run away from home. You were in your car down the street looking for him , your hands angrily squeezing the steering wheel.

You saw Hobie walking down the sidewalk while listening to his punk music blasting through his headphones. You stopped the car next to him and he turned to see you , removing his headphones with a sigh.

"I was just bored. . ." He excused himself putting his hands in his pockets , with his eyes on the ground.