Dan was seven.

The sky outside was a beautiful, cheerful blue; a blue which was the exact opposite of his current mood. A darker, sad blue may fit it, or a stormy grey.

His dad had just left. Sure, he hadn't been the best of parents, but it was still sad to see him leave. And it wasn't as though his parents were just getting a divorce and he would see them both regularly; no, his dad had just walked out. His mum and dad had been having regular arguments for a while now, but he never expected it would get this bad. Apparently though, the worst of it happened when he was in bed, which may explain why he didn't realize it was so terrible.

Dan sat on the far corner of his bed, legs pulled up against his chest and his back against the walls behind him. The bed frame was slightly digging into his side, but he didn't mind. If anything, it gave him something to focus on; a bit of feeling amongst the rest of the nothing he felt.

Suddenly, his head shot up as he heard a knock on the door. Before he could respond, his mum opened the door and scanned the room until her eyes landed on the tiny sad lump that was her son.

"Phil called. He was wondering if you wanted to talk."

Dan thought for a moment before resting his head back on his knees and saying, "tell him I don't want to talk right now."