Room 222 | Sunday Afternoon

Once upon a time, Jim's weekends had been spent doing every thing possible to get out of his house and away from Frank. He'd stolen cars, run away (not that anyone noticed), gotten into fights, picked up girls and every single thing in between just because everything else bored him.

And what was he doing today? He was reading. He'd chalk it up to the streets being too small in this town to steal a car, running away not holding the shine it used to, fighting causing bleeding which he didn't want to do and girls just being...well, different here than they were back home. There wasn't even a Frank around to piss off (though there was a Jackson).

Jim would have called these sad times a few years ago. Right now, he'd just call it a quiet phase in his life. He'd gotten a letter (two paragraphs long) from his mom that seemed like a freaking form letter yesterday. He'd read it once and tossed it. He hadn't heard from his brother (not surprising).

For the first time, Jim really felt the years that separated this place and back home. He felt it in his bones and in his head and in his heart. It was weird but he internalized it.

That was just his way.

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