It's 6:30 in the morning and it's sleeting again. Icy water lashes down onto Jed Shepperd's window as he peers out of it. His hair hangs lankly around his craggy face and drips down his neck, but his mind is elsewhere. He has his headphones on, plectrum in hand and is strumming quietly on his guitar with a backing track playing in the background. When the alarm clock sounds, Jed gets up, takes off his headphones and puts his guitar down. He stubs his toe on his bed and cries out in pain.
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