For as long as you could remember, Gerard Gibson lived in the house right next door, your windows faced each other.

As the years passed, his nightmares and trauma came along with him, he put a ladder between both of your windows, so he could come into your room whenever he wanted.

But Gibsie, being Gibsie- he fell right off the later at one in the morning. Now he’s lying on the floor, with you, your family, and his peering down at him. “I’m grand.” He tries to coax, but he can’t hide the slur brought to his words due to the force from his fall. “Totally grand.”