James sat on the floor behind the stairs, out of sight from the doorway, sitting on this cloud-like cushioning from under his sleeper. He sat feeling hopeless and defeated. James then began to wander around the room, running his hand across old relic-like trinkets and looking at dusty photos. There were some old toys in a corner, some were Fisher-Price toys that looked like they were from around the time he was a kid, or even before he was born. Old stacked photo albums of families whom James didn’t know depicted people at the beach, one picture of a kid running on the beach in a diaper being chased by his mother. It was almost as if life itself wanted to remind him of his current place.
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