Jake reached for his alarm clock, knocking empty beer cans and bags of chips onto the ground. He picked up the clock frantically trying to shut it off. It was 4:30 in the morning. I must have accidentally set this thing for the wrong time, he thought. Resigning to his lack of patience for the beeping of the alarm and his lack of coordination to turn it off, he picked the clock up and threw it at the wall. The fate of the clock was determined by the cease of sound. Good, thought Jake. No more fucking noise.nnJake had fallen into a broken bachelor's routine. He rarely saw his friends, rarely went outside. His tour had finished a few weeks ago and since, he'd been inside his house, eating crap from bags and watching bad television. He hadn't bothered with personal grooming – who was there to impress? He lived like a slob; he was behaving uncharacteristically. Even worse, he'd lost his motivation to pick up his guitar and write music. It was incredibly depressing.nnThe pounding on the door was relentless. Didn't I break my alarm already? Jake rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. His curtains were pulled tightly together, making his room as dark as a cave, so Jake was quite surprised when he opened his bedroom door and sunlight poured into the room. He staggered over to the front door and opened it, not bothering to ask who it was.