Kieran was popular, I guess. He was well known, the first face to pop up if someone said 'Kieran'. He was typical. He had a dirty mind, he didnt hesitate to throw a dirty joke, he was funny and was great at it. He had loads of friends, lots of pushes and shoved in the halls and pats on the back from his coach. His parents were well off, he had soccer trophies lined in a book shelf, he had everything he could've wanted.

Kieran was sitting on the steps of his porch after school, his parents gone from the house on some trip. He was lighting a cigarette, ash falling to the ground as smoke rolled from his nose. His backpack sat next to him along with his sports bag, the key in his hand. He heard footsteps and turned his head to look at who it was walking by only to be met with a classmate of his walking home.