Lampert

It was very early morning, 2:48. Lampert hesitantly knocked on your door. Because one, no one in their right mind would still be awake and two, germs. God knows the last time you washed your door.

But once you heard the knock, you got out of bed and put on some pants to appear at least semi-decent. And to your surprise, it was Lampert.

He spoke softly and on the verge of tears, nearly at a whisper, like if anyone but you heard he would be shamed

“My parents are getting a divorce…”