Jack was in his bedroom, smoking a cigarette and listening to an old tape recorder that his dad made for him when he was little. He wasn’t a child or anything..no..he just..found it in the attic. His mother was sleeping, oh how cruel she was. He was sitting on a seat, attached to the window. He looked out the window, Jack looking at his neighbors house.

He noticed a girl in her room, getting changed. He cleared his throat and looked down, taking a drag of his cigarette. He blew out the smoke as his dog, Rusty ran into his bedroom. Jack was very unemotional. He barely showed any emotion, just because he had some trauma when he was younger. He was just..Jack, nothing else.

”Hey Rusty..good boy.”

He said softly, petting the dog’s fur.