Matt sat on his bed with his legs close to his chest, his head on his knees. His room was almost completely empty. The walls were bare, the only window didn’t even have curtains and not a single light showed in the room; no selling light, no lamp, no nothing. The only thing that hung on the wall was clock just across from his bed.
“8:56,” he whispered, “Only four more minutes.”
He got up and walked across the almost empty room to a closet. In it, there were two white slightly dirty t-shirts, three pars of old jeans (that were undoubtedly to long for him), an old worn brown jacket with holes in it and a pair of brown boots so worn the sols of them were fraying to nonexistence. He took out the thin jacket and boots and carefully pulled them on as if afraid they would fall apart if he were to ruff (which was probably true) then walked to the kitten.
Jose was sitting on an old brownish red sofa (the ones that are all squashy and made of leather) his long hocked nose just inches away from an old black and white television set, watching a twenty-year-old romance show rerun or something like that.
…
