|Chapter One : Typical Dad.
||[Dec. 3rd, 2004|09:22 pm]
the hanson shoebox project
The teenager rubbed his forehead, already feeling a headache coming on.|
"Ezra?" the voice called from downstairs.
"I'm doing it right now," he called back down in response to her unvoiced question. Tucking a stray hair behind his ear, he turned the silver knob and stepped into his father's office.
"Dad's not even dead a week and already I'm clearing out his stuff," he muttered, then squeezed his eyes shut as the memories of the past week came flooding back. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he tucked the hair behind his ear again and shut the door behind him. His dad's office wasn't too messy, a few filing cabinets to sort through, a desk, and some pictures and knick-nacks made up the room. The stereo caught his eye, and Ezra walked over to it, flipping the switch. U2 began to quietly flow through the speakers, and Ezra grinned to himself, shaking his head.
"Typical dad," he said quietly, flopping down in the black leather chair and opening the bottom desk drawer. The only thing in it was a rather large Doc Marten shoebox, that looked like it was about to fall apart at a moment's notice. Ezra raised an eyebrow and pulled out the box, setting it on the desk in front of him. 'Walk On' began to play, and Ezra grabbed the remote, turning up the volume a few notches, then tossed the remote back down and slowly pulled off the lid to the box, picking up the letter that was on top.
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