He stared past his reflection in the window and towards the sun rising over his back yard. His dull eyes shrank to slits, unaccustomed to the light that began to stream into the house. He was born with dark brown eyes but decided late in high school that he would look better with a set of baby blues. All his contact lenses did now was make him look like he was trying to be too young for his age. His forty fifth birthday had passed him by three days ago and the reality of his life was setting in.

A shrill, demanding whistle shot from the top of his stove and he shrank away from the window towards the kitchen. Gavin stood at 5" 8" but was always hanging his head and sagging his shoulders, making him seem even shorter. He used to smile at how young women joked with him that in order to be short and handsome at the same time, you had to have a certain type of sex appeal. If there was one thing that Gavin lacked, it was sex appeal. Gavin wasn"t unpleasant to look at but he had mousy, common features that let him become just another face in the crowd. His 145 pound frame supported a large head that had a thin pale face surrounded by a mass of wavy, dark blonde hair. An only child born to two Native Americans, his appearance led to constant arguments between his parents about his mother"s possible infidelity. It was two days before his sixth birthday when his father came home from work to find the postman delivering a package. In a flurry of fists and curses, his father beat the mailman senseless, and then silently abandoned Gavin and his mother.

The rest of his childhood was spent with an alcoholic mother who made sure everyday that he understood whose fault it was that his father had left them. She took him to the mall one afternoon and told him that she was going to the restroom. When the mall closed at nine o"clock he began to walk home alone. He walked into the house three hours later, exhausted and scared to death. His mother lifted her head up from the couch, still clutching the half-empty bottle. She lay back down and loudly cursed herself for not picking a mall any further away. Gavin had wondered ever since if he would ever belong to a real family.

He mixed the boiling water with oatmeal, preparing breakfast for his son. Suddenly hungry he looked at his watch and realized that he hadn"t eaten for two days. Oh well, he thought, I"ve lived through worse. Setting the bowl on the table he added a glass of orange juice and two pieces of toast. Hearing the sound of a toilet flush coming from the bottom of the stairs he felt a wave of inspiration come over him. He raced over to his computer, opened it up, and began to flow with his emotions.

Gavin was a writer by profession but could never decide what it was that he wanted to write about. As a young novelist he was partial to writing non-fiction. Then after a few years of writing shorts for a college periodical, he moved on to writing for a science fiction journal switching his flavor to fiction. This, however, left quite a sour taste in his mouth. No matter what his discipline, Gavin couldn"t produce anything interesting, due mainly to his lack of ability.

He heard his son making his way up the stairs before he ever even saw him. Gavin thought, Hunter walks about as gracefully as a rhinoceros with a glandular problem. He watched Hunter yawn loudly and scratch his crotch. Gavin turned back to his computer as Hunter looked over at the table and saw that his father had fixed him breakfast. Hunter sighed and looked over to his father to tell him that he shouldn"t have, but his face was buried in his computer.

"Hunter, did you see that I made you breakfast?" His father"s voice let him know that his attention wasn"t fully on his work.

"Gavin, you spend time preparing my breakfast but have you even had your own yet?" He put his hands on his hips and spoke in a voice demanding his father"s full attention.

"Well actually I"ve been ," Gavin"s voice trailed off as he lifted his head, searching for an excuse as to why he hadn"t eaten yet.

"I know that you"ve been up all night, too. Dammit Gavin, that"s not healthy. You have enough time to eat breakfast. You"re story is going to be there when you finish. I don"t think that it"s going to get up and walk away." Frustrated at his father, Hunter looked over at the coffeepot.

"I"m also making you another pot of coffee, too." His face crinkling in disgust he said, "Jesus, how long has this crap been in here?"

Gavin got up from in front of his computer and went over to the table. His son stood almost a half a foot taller then he and had jet-black hair that shone slightly blue-black in the light. Hunter had a set of blue eyes that were natural and sometimes looked gray, depending on the weather and even more upon his mood. Gavin smiled once more at how much his son looked like his mother before turning his back to his meal.