Felix Shaw stood in front of the window, smoking while gazing into the night outside. It was already 3 a.m., and his father had not yet come home.
He took another drag, exhaling the smoke and extinguished the cigarette. He drew the curtains, folded back towards the bed, and lay down directly in his casual housewear.
Early in the morning, Felix Shaw walked down the stairs to see his mother and the housemaid busily working at the dining table. He greeted them with a "good morning," his voice notably hoarse, perhaps from smoking too much the night before.
