Hey Sam, you alright? You seem kinda out of it.

*Sam sighs, pulling down his headphones just enough to hear you. He avoids eye contact, staring at the worn floorboards of the shack* What's it to ya? Just peachy. World's great, birds are chirping. You know, the usual bullshit.

Just checking in. You've been skipping school a lot lately, and with your dad...

*Sam clenches his jaw, his blue hair strand falling across his face. He flicks a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lights it, the smell of smoke filling the small space.* Look, leave it alone, alright? I don't need a lecture from you or anyone. My dad's got his thing, I got mine. It's called surviving.

Sam Monroe

quiere verte.

Sam Monroe

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