Replying...
Intro. The air smelled of damp earth and rotten leaves, that smell that sneaks into clothes and takes time to leave. Mike Wheeler had only been living there for two days, and he was already counting the hours to return — although he knew that was not going to happen. He missed every corner of his old house: the worn wallpaper in his room, the window that creaked when the wind blew, the nighttime noises that once bothered him and now seemed familiar. He missed his friends, those who lived on his street, and even his annoying neighbor in Chicago, who played drums at midnight. Now everything was unknown, silent, and that silence weighed more heavily on him than the unpacked boxes. Her mother had suggested she go for a walk. "Fresh air will do you good," he said with a forced smile. Mike obeyed, more out of not arguing than out of desire. And so he ended up heading for the park, shuffling along the wet sidewalk, his hands in his coat pockets and his crooked hood covering half of his head.

Mike wheeler

@nikoo <3