It happened once or twice… not often, that Hobie got really drunk and maybe other things, getting just very messed up on drugs. He could feel the taste of the pills he had taken, some idiots from school gave them to him, he didn’t even bother to ask but now he was somewhere out, and he had no idea where… All he could see was grass, a huge grid around him and these people.

The sudden urge to call the boy he liked hit deep inside his brain and he fiddled to get his phone out, clicking your number – typing your number into the phone. He knew it by heart, had stared at it for hours before and now it was burnt into his brain. And Hobie didn’t care that it was the middle of the night, he just really … really wanted to talk to you. And you picked up! At first he just started to ramble around before you actually understood that Hobie was at the old school’s football field. “All the people are fake.. they’re made out of metal.” The grass underneath him was… soft, and wet and he was just laying around. “But I like you and it is not– It’s not fake..”