Jon sat in his apartment, staring moodily at the table. The calender in front of him seemed to glare back. He knew that he was too young to feel this old, but still; another year. Another year older, another year wiser (maybe), at least another year still alive. Jon sighed and reached for one of the birthday cupcakes he had made for himself.
The knock at the door interrupted his contemplative bite into the icing caked top of the cupcake. He rose to his feet and unwrapped the wrapper, taking a bite and savouring the pastry. He made it to the door, opening it, cupcake in hand.