Jack awoke to a dark sky. Crash was asleep in his arms, and Jack was careful not to wake him as he laid the child down. Standing slowly, he stretched his arms above his head, reminding his muscles they still had to move. He found a filthy window and gingerly rubbed a circle clean with his sleeve. 'Fitting', he thought when he saw they sky, 'Cloudy.'
The cowboy made his was to the door of the abandoned house. He turned the knob with both hands, trying to be as quiet as possible. Outside, the air was clean and fresh, despite the clouded sky. A deep breath felt good.
The city was beginning to become alive, carriages slowly making their way down streets, shopkeepers unlocking the doors to their buildings. Soon they would have to make the long walk to the distribution center to buy their papers. Despite the gaping hole in all their hearts, there would be no survival if they didn't sell.
Jack sauntered across a dusty street. Spotting a bench, he took the little book out of his pocket yet again. He opened it, sitting. The youthful writing brought a sad smile to Jack's face.
Breakfast was much better than supper last night: eggs, milk, biscuits. And Dolby spent the night, so we had fun. I've just realized that of the three entries I have made, two are about food.
Now Journal, don't presume me to be chunky. I am, indeed, quite thin. Alas, I'm a growing boy, and as mother says, I need fuel. That's what she calls food.
Today it's raining, so I don't get to go outside. The last few weeks have been quite rainy, and it's quite annoying because I've gotten myself quite a cold. My nose is positively raw and I never seem to have a clean handkerchief. And my eyes are so runny that I have to wipe my glasses every few minutes. It's quite ridiculous.
A thin boy sniffled in a bay window. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and wiped them lazily on his trousers. He sighed, replacing the spectacles on his red nose. Picking up a pen, he continued to write in a small book on his lap.
Dolby has managed to stay fairly healthy, and frankly, I don't understand it. I assumed that if he stayed the night, he would get a cold as well. However, despite the time we're together, he remains cold-less. Perhaps, Journal, I am just more susceptible to this particular illness. No matter.
Dolby and I return to school on Monday. Easter was gloomy as usual. I enjoyed my Easter presents, but Mother always makes me feel guilty on Easter. She always makes me feel as if I am the sole sinner on Earth, and it's completely my fault that Christ was crucified. And that's just silly.
The boy in the window scoffed to himself quietly. He slammed the small book shut, slightly riled up by the reminder of earlier feelings. Glancing out of the five-paned window, the boy took a deep breath. He moved on to his knees, scooting close to the glass. Exhaling slowly, he created a fogged area, and lifted a finger to the blur. He touched his finger to the glass, slowly tracing his name. J….A….S….O
Footsteps echoed on the stairwell outside the boys' room. He gasped, quickly jumping down from the window sill, and leaping expertly on to his quilted bed. Hastily burying himself in the covers, the boy nestled his head in to his pillow.
The door creaked open. A woman stuck her head through the crevice. "Jason…" she called, softly. The boy shifted under the blanket. Satisfied that he was indeed asleep, the woman smiled and shut the door softly.
In his bed, Jason laughed and threw off his blankets.