Pacey Witter had never been much on faith. With his family album reading like burnt scraps of paper, he'd accepted the fact that Capeside and his new and empty apartment with the exception of a him, a couch and his Shepard mutt mix, Cronin,
that this was probably it. Since his friends where now on all other sides of the world and Pacey was left in the dust,
he'd grown accustomed to drifting from his small town apartment selection quite easily. Pacey dropped his faded black LL Bean bag and walked in.

"Here we are buddy, Cro...c'mere you mutt!" Pacey smiled as Cronin jumped excitedly from the couch to Pacey's upper thighs.
Within a few hours, he'd move in the last bit of his stuff, thanks to a courteous neighbor who heard him struggling with his lonesome mattress at the stairs. He threw a plastic grocery bag on the counter and took out it's contents, some ramen noodles, two small grilling steaks, a gallon of orange juice, dry dog food and some JuJubees. He threw the steaks into the semi frozen freezer and placed the OJ in the luke warm fridge, the rest he disposed of in the cabinet. He washed his hands and plopped to the left behind/almost new colored blue couch. He pulled the bag from the left side of the couch, wrestling for it playfully from Cronin's loosely tight grip.

"Gimme.." he said flashing his million dollar smile. Cronin surrendered the bag. Pacey picked through it and found what he was looking for. His red journal laced turned photo album. On the sides, band names and funny faces were scribbled, inside told a different story. The first page held photos of his family. The first one was a faded oldie but goodie of Doug holding Pacey up in the front yard, with Pacey wearing his Dad's police hat.

"Yeah this was never right, you always knew Doug was going to be the man of the law and I was going to be the one getting picked up for running out of the 7-11 with the Playboy stuffed under the belt of my jeans." Pacey said outloud. He did this a lot, talked out loud, to himself, sometimes to Cronin when he wasn't busy with his old beat up teal frisbee. The photo next to it was one of few family shots, with Pacey's sisters posing in the left hand corner, his Dad to the far right in policeman tough guy stance and his wife lovingly smiling next to him. Doug had on a leatherjacket and had himself bowed down in front, looking like John Travolta from Grease with the family dog blocking his tight jeans..and than there was Pacey, glancing over his Dad's shoulder, trying to wedge a smile in before the flash. Pacey traced the faces in the photo.

"Ah Pops..." he felt a little tingle of a tear in the left corner of his eye.