I'm home, in the room that used to belong to my brother. Ever since he moved out, I use the room to store books and other things. I was there with around 6 other people, boys and girls around my age. I didn't really like any of them (random DCs), except for L (from work), who was the only one I actually knew well enough. It seems we were waiting for something there, but I just couldn't talk to the others. I mean, they had serious, unsmiling bored faces. A really masculine girl stands up and starts to fiddle with some comics of mine. I'm deeply annoyed as she grabs a collected issue (apparently it was Sandman Mystery Theater, rather ironically) and starts to read.