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Max never lost that habit as he grew older. He kept all his toys since they never became a problem. Those he wanted to display he did so, finding ways to keep them in the boxes, in the packages, and placing them in strategic spots around wherever he lived so that they were out of the way and shown in a manner that was kind of impressive really. He even started buying his own toys at some point, taking on a job as a paperboy, a dishwasher when he was old enough, and various other jobs he could do over the summer and on weekends. He even started writing at one point, becoming quite the storyteller and gaining the notice of a budding website that dealt with pop culture when he was in his late teens.

That was the first and last job he took as a writer, and I’ll get to that. But he had a chance to write for pop culture in several forms, from TV and radio to movies and video games and everything in between. Max had found the perfect job for himself, and by the time he headed off to college he was working steadily and paying for a good chunk of his education from the job he enjoyed so much. He boxed up his toys, or action figures I suppose I should say, and paid for a small storage space to keep them in. I helped him move them into the space, and noted that he made certain that it was dry, wasn’t bound to leak, and would be a perfect spot for his goods. Of course, he still boxed them in plastic totes with plenty of covering to keep them safe. The man liked his stuff, that much was obvious.

Max moved from his home in Vancouver, Washington to Seattle, where he could ply his trade as a writer even further while keeping his job. His laptop and a secure wifi connection were all he really needed, and upon attending the University of Washington to see a degree in Communications he moved into a small, two-bedroom apartment with one of our other friends and began to secure his position as one of the Pacific Northwest’s most prolific writers. It was a good life, a productive life, and somehow, for Max, it was enough, but it wasn’t. He still thought about his toys he admitted. I didn’t think that was too strange, but it was beyond the norm.

In fact, I didn’t really think much about it until Max really started acting strange. Looking back at it now I can’t help think that I should have noticed what was happening a little sooner.

(to be continued)

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