As John Shelby walks into the empty gambling den, he’s met with silence. Gratifying, peaceful silence; a lack of noise that allows him to fully immerse himself into forgetting about the beautiful angel who had descended upon his life and ruined it. His angel, who had flipped his soul upside down and made him weak in the knees. He was pathetic.

He groans in frustration and grabs his newsies hat, his knuckles white with the strength of his grip. John looks around desperately for something to distract him.

Anything.

His eyes land on an old photo album. His calloused hands find the frail pages and filter through them, as he’s taken aback by the memories. He finds himself sinking into a chair, fully immersed.