Please tell me why my car is in the front yard,
and I'm sleeping with my clothes on.
I came in through the window last night,
and you're gone, gone.
Roxas typed, pressed the backspace, typed, and pressed the backspace again. The words just weren't coming to him. He clutched the sides of his head and banged his elbows on his desk. The white blankness of the writing program mocked him with the straight blinking cursor. Roxas hadn't had this bad of case of writer's block since the beginning of the school year when they were supposed to write an essay on what they had done that summer. What had Roxas done? Laid around and fell out of trees, mostly. He had been laying around in this huge tree in the park towards the outskirts of Twilight Town and Traverse Town, the next city over. It was a large apple tree that, for some reason, always had apples.
Roxas' head fell over to the side as he thought about the memory and that summer some more. The more he thought about it, the more he realized had happened: Roxas had the cops called on him, his best friend Hayner fell asleep on their friend Olette's porch, and their other friend Pence made a movie. Roxas perked up, suddenly knowing what to write about, glanced at the computer screen before typing out a single sentence: All in one day, I died my hair, changed my wardrobe, made a friend, and--
Roxas stopped and starred at the lone half-way written sentence on the screen. He instantly slammed his finger on the backspace. He just wasn't ready to go in that direction yet. But Roxas smiled still, pushing away from his desk and leaning back in his swivel chair, resting his arm on the back. He glanced around his room. It was small and rectangular, but Roxas liked it. It wasn't too big, so that when he wanted to get away, he would just close the door and he would be all by himself in his own little world. The room was lightly furnished and everything seemed to be either orange or blue he realized. His bed was against the wall, his desk was adjacent to the bed, the door came in between them and across the room was a single window.
His eyes moved from the walls to the window until they adjusted and fell upon the window outside of his window. It was the room of another teenager that lived in the next apartment complex over. It was about eight feet away, connected by a single fire escape where Roxas almost always sat in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep: night's like tonight.
Roxas glanced at the clock at the bottom right corner of his computer screen. 11:11 PM "Make a wish Roxas," he muttered to himself.
