Early one winter morning in 1978, in the city of Glasgow, at 12 [Street Name], a 13-year-old boy named Madison was sitting by the window. He was thin, with ginger hair and short bangs. While watching outside, Madison saw two cats fighting. One was dark—clearly visible in the glow of the streetlamp—and the other was ginger, just like Madison. It seemed they were fighting over a trash bin. The ginger cat was retreating, while the black one approached, hissing, getting closer and closer until the ginger one ran away. Before fleeing, however, the ginger cat looked back at Madison. Watching such a spectacle, Madison had completely forgotten about sleep. Suddenly, he heard the front door opening. Madison jumped up and ran to the door, seeing his father greeting their smoking neighbor.
Turning around and closing the door behind him, his father asked, "Madison, why aren't you in bed yet? It’s late."
"I wanted to, but…" Madison began, but his father interrupted him.
"If you wanted to, then go to sleep," he said.
Sighing, Madison turned away and, without looking back, said in an angry tone, "Good night."
"Sweet dreams, Madison," his father replied in his usual voice. His father was a tall man with a black mustache and a receding hairline, who always wore a coat and a tie in the winter.
His mother came downstairs at the noise, but Madison closed his bedroom door and began to eavesdrop on his parents' conversation.
"Good even… or rather, good morning, Rose," his father said.
"Good morning, Simon," she replied. Rose was a short, ginger-haired woman with bags under her eyes after working all week without a day off.
"Did they keep you late again?"
"No," she said, "my boss invited me for a drink, and I couldn't refuse. It’s a pity, though—he spent the whole evening bragging about his new 1977 Aston Martin V8 Vantage. The car is certainly nice, but the owner… not so much."
Rose let out a small chuckle, and his father joined her.
by Many_Chocolate_3433