This is like a… COMPLETELY different writing style for me so I’m kind of angsty.. But I hope you like it!! Please comment and tell me what you think! <3

It became some kind of ritual.

Every morning he’d slam the alarm, get up, shower, and listen to the man whistling in front of his house before going to his work.

He lived close to the park and the whistling man always stood across the street, whistling melody’s.

Happy melody’s, sad melody’s. They were never the same.