“What’s going on here?” Jack asked. He sauntered into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. It creaked slightly as it bent under his weight. Sylvia smiled up at him from her spot on the floor.

“Just a walk down memory lane. You know Jack, you can pull up a squat here on the floor with us. We ain’t expecting anyone else.” She winked at him. Jack smiled and sighed.

He couldn’t be rude to Sylvia, she had always been kind to him; treated him as if he were her own son. She’d never had children of her own so she had taken in Jack and his sister when his mother had left them with Elmer.

Jack could remember that day all too well, because he was ten years old. Elmer was his granddad, but he couldn’t have been over fifty at the time.
His mother had shown up at the house in their multi coloured volkwagon van, Jack and Carly, dirty and hungry, with half a dozen doped up twenty- something year olds on their way to something called Woodstock.

His mother never returned and Sylvia had raised Jack and Carly.