John, John, John, John. I won’t stop ‘till you answer me. John, John, John
He’s sat at home, Reading the book of Joseph in his arm chair with one leg folded over the other, browsing the words on the pages peacefully. That is before his name escapes the lips of a pest.
First his jaw tenses, then his body. A vein appears down the middle of his forehead and temples before his foot begins tapping on the hollow wooden floor
Suddenly he slams his book shut and stands from his arm chair, wrath burning in his eyes while the rest of his features reamain dormant in expression. He holds the book in one hand by his side, a he stared at the annoyance in his presence
“whaT” his voice echoed but his tone was calm apart from the ‘t’ that sliced through the walls.
