You sat and watched the boy in the red shirt play with the lid to the cookie jar, repeating old rhymes from his days as a schoolboy. Another boy sat across from him. A boy that is filled with logic and finally another boy drinking a soda. This is your family, your core. A safe place to speak about the unspoken, see the unseen and hear the unheard. Sometimes they whisper and talk among themselves but you know it is only to help pass the time. You feel closed off in your work as they all sit together and contemplate sleep. You scratch your wrist and look at the word "PSHA" written in red across your wrist, not sure why you wrote it. While you write this document the boys joke about something from a movie they saw and repeat the words in unison: "Fired Up reference; Love it!"