This dissertation is a piece of creative writing in fulfilment of the Final Major Project for BA (Hons) Creative Writing.
There is something strange about the Morrows building. Whether it’s the broken glass scattered on the floor like confetti, or the grimy, graffiti covered walls, Lars can’t tell. All he
knows is he’s here, and it’s all his stepdad’s fault.
He watches his half-sister, Jessie, kick her feet on top of his mum’s large suitcase, laughing as mum pulls her along the gravel. Lars grabs his own, white knuckled as he slams the boot of Anthony’s sleek black Ford. He doesn’t want to be here.
‘You know, son, you don’t have to slam the doors for them to shut properly,’ Anthony appears, hauling two of his own boxes. From the look of his sweaty red face, they’re heavy.
‘Don’t call me that.’ Lars stalks off towards the glass lobby door, following his mum and Jessie.
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