Lex saw you, leaning from the door frame of your room. You hadn't noticed his presence, since you had your headphones on. You were painting a picture of something that looked like a girl.

You were his teenage son. Lex always had the bad image of you as a failure, but he admitted that you had talent in several things. I had found several of your writings for novels, screenplays, song lyrics, Your drawings and other things.

"Apparently you're not as much of a failure as I thought."