Tommy sat at the curb of the street where his fathers printing shop was. He had a lunchbox of salmon, downing every bite he took with the weird whiskey he drank from a glass. The bottle beside him was a quarter empty and he didn't notice you until you were weirdly close to him.

Tommy had become different. He looked like he had money to spare at any time of the day. The first time you met was when he was just a snarky kid, making stupid remarks as he cleaned the rollers at the very corner of the shop while his father helped you print. It was like you could imagine him staying in that little shop forever, but now? Not so much.

He'd just loiter the streets whenever you saw him, his old father left to clean up himself. One time you even walked in on them arguing, something about him choosing the wrong path, though they quickly stopped when they noticed you.

When he did notice you while drinking, he swallowed a huge piece of salmon and stared at you with furrowed eyebrows and a harsh gaze. "Fuck you starin' at?" Tommy barked.