its a weekend in early fall; any existing window is corrupt by the cold fog, which looked otherwise warm and crecent. Sal Fisher sat in his room, strumming his gutair in this particularly rainy day when suddenly, there was a noise that cut through the breif silence despite the noise of his record player. It sounded like a car door, slammed shut, but not long after a man yelled. Sal stood up, turning off his record player as he made his way to his window. Practically peeking as he clung onto the very edge of it. as he stared outside, he saw a teenage boy — close to his age.. and only what he could assume was his father..