Jack is cowering in the corner of his room. His father, after yet another drunken tirade, lay passed out on the bed; his mother, crouched on the floor in the kitchen in tears. Shattered whiskey bottles litter the halls of the house. A wind blows through the room, a bitter cold wind. Jack gets up to close the window, to find a young man standing in his room; he appears to be exchanging banter with his shadow. The man turns to Jack and says "you look lost, boy. I know a place for lost boys. A place where they can feel safe, where they never have to grow old. A place where for happy thoughts, where they can leave their lives behind. I can take you." Jack, still frightened after his father's outbreak, and more frightened by the sudden appearance of a strange man, stood motionless. "Well I haven't got all night" he said, getting irritated. Jack nodded, and stepped forward. The man pulled a small bag from his pocket, and sprinkled something on Jack's head. He felt lighter, somehow, though he was unsure in what way. "Think of the happiest thing you can" the impatient man told him. But Jack didn't know what the word meant. Happy. As much as he tried, he couldn't think of a moment in his life he would've called happy. "I can't, sir. I don't know what happy is" he managed to fumble out finally. Exasperated, the man swept the dust off Jack's head. "Very well. I simply don't have time to wait." And with a gust of wind, Jack was alone again. As he had been. As he'd stay.