They spoke to him. He could feel the silent hum coming from them. The stars were speaking to him. Daniel was sat where he went every night now. At the top of the grassy field near Murray Street, just outside of the train station. That's where he felt closest to his family. All he had left of them was his brother James's bike, his father's Swiss army knife that he used in the war, and his mother's gold watch. Not once had he considered selling these precious items. No matter how hungry he was or how cold it was outside. Not even his bike. It was too battered and rusty anyway. Dan (as his father used to call him) was reading his favourite book - Moby Dick- when he heard a shout coming from below him, "There he is!"

Dan looked up from the pages, narrowing his eyes in attempt to see clearer—another thing he was left with, generosity of his mother's side: bad vision.

It turned out to be his best friend, Aaron, whom he recognised not by the voice alone, but by the fiery red jacket he seemed to prefer these days. The boy had a grin on his tanned face that, id any bigger, would wrap around his head. He dramaticaly collapsed next to Dan, the mess of curly, dark hair fluttering with the wind.

"I thought you were dead, or something! You have a phone, don't you, idiot? So pick it up when I call! Do not pull that shit on me ever again! I have a weak heart, you know?"