memories2stamp

It was a chilly November day, the trees were bare, and the wind was on the verge of a storm, blowing violently, curving the trees partially askew. Winter was on its way, which was how Jason liked it. Jason Haley sat, or rather slouched, in his room; lazily leaning back in his chair with his feet clumsily slumped on his desk. Sunlight landed in squares on his shaggy navy rug and reflected off his mirrored closet onto his bed to the right of him. His bed was in disarray with books, both school and personal, strewn all across the length of the bed with papers and a variety of writing utensils messily scattered on top of the bulk of the disas