He just arrived home from his school, next thing tomorrow was going to mortician training. Charles needed to sleep, eat, and wash. He plopped down on his couch, not minding his creaky apartment and the noisy neighbors upstairs. The apartment reminded him too much of the room of his old foster home. The plain white walls, the bed next to the guarded window, a small kitchen, and the noise upstairs. His jean pocket vibrated, someone was calling him on his old phone. He picked it up and snapped it open. "Hello?" He said rubbing his tired eyes.