Portrait of a junior high school.  Deep autumn.  A carpet of red leaves rolled out on the walk.  The sun sliding away into the trees.  But the glitz of Hollywood is far away.  This is a cheap sun.  A nickel and dime sun.  With a cheapness that goes past half-hearted rays and clocking out early.  This is a sun that sang its loudest songs somewhere on a stage last July.  Last August.  An aging lounge singer.  A faded star.  No longer part of the sky.  Eclipsed by movement of earth and time.  A tawdry little shine soon to flame out west.  Forgotten.  A sun that doesn't give a shit that it's leaving two boys alone, with a junior high school.