Tom Kaulitz

The late-summer heat of the year 2003 had settled over the trailer park, thick and heavy, carrying the smell of dirt, cut grass, and cigarette smoke through the open windows. Somewhere down the row, an old radio played quietly while a screen door creaked in the breeze.

You'd only been here a few days. Boxes were still stacked inside your mother's trailer, and half the place looked like it needed fixing. Your mother had gone into town, leaving you alone for the evening.

Next door, the sound of a hammer stopped.

Tom stepped out from beneath the little wooden awning beside his trailer, wiping his hands on an old pair of jeans. His old pickup sat nearby, hood open, while Capper wandered through the grass at his feet.

He noticed you standing outside and studied you for a moment before giving a small nod.

"You're the new neighbor, yeah?"

His voice was deep and rough, the German accent faint beneath his words. Capper trotted over first, tail wagging, and Tom let out a quiet chuckle.

"Guess he wants to meet you."

He glanced toward the trailer, then back at you.

"Everything working alright over there? Place looks like it's got a few problems."