The boy of the CDs -Larry Stylinson

-Harry, son, get up. It's late. 

A female voice entering the darkened room was heard. She then opened the curtains and windows. The boy shifted in his plaintive bed, covering with blankets his head.

-Harry, please 

The boy ignored. His mother sighed, walked over to him and placed her soft kiss on her head above the covers.

It was the mid-nineties. The streets of England were covered by a vast fog. 

Anne was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for his son. Harry was a special guy. He had been diagnosed when was a child with pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified. It is a kind of disease that affects the power to properly socialize with people. Whether hindering development with other verbal or lack the ability to easily interact with people. All in his head was fine. He had no cognitive problem. He was not a genius or a fool. His brain was a normal child. The person closest to him, his mother, with who more words exchanged. Any contact that was not from her makes him nervous. He had suffered a panic attack at school when he was little, teachers and peers were terrified and had no idea how to contain it, it was not until his mother arrived at the establishment when he finally managed to calm him down. Since that day, his parents decided that he would study at home with a trusted person, without being exposed to so many people around him that he would suffocate. No specialist was able to tell if Harry would be or not  normal in a moment in his life. But she didn't lose hope.

She heard his son's footsteps coming down the stairs and turned hiding something behind her back. The teenager of sixteen slowly entered the kitchen wearing her striped pajamas, with his tousled curls and rubbing one eye with his fist. 

-Hello heart. How did you sleep? -she asked in a sweet tone while serving things on the table.

The guy just shrugged, without being rude, and sat down.

-Eat before to cool.

It was Thursday. Harry had private lessons in his living room Monday through Thursday with a very nice woman named Marianne. She was the instructor Harry for years, she was used to his behavior and he could trust her. On Friday he had an appointment with his psychologist. Not spend so much time with that woman as he did with Marianne. They  not had formed a loving bond between them, then their conversation was smaller. Saturdays were his days off. His mother did not require anything on Saturdays. He could sleep when I wanted and invest his time as he pleased. Sundays were the least favorite days of Harry. His family gathered at the home of his grandparents to lunch together. It was his uncles and cousins ​​and he had to endure that human contact for a couple of hours on end. 

Thursdays had math classes. He hated math. It was not bad in them, they just were not to his liking and Anne knew perfectly. So always looking for ways to compensate, either with your favorite meal or some present. 

-Harry -she called softly making the guy stop eating and look at her - got something for you-but the guy, like most of the time, had a blank look. 

She pulled her arms behind her back and showed her that her hands sontenía a music CD that Harry wanted. She held it out and he took careful watching, admiring every detail, as with every gift his mother regaled him.