A/N: This will be a series of one-shots about Roger's life. Most of them will be totally random. And they're probably not going to go in chronological order, so I'll let you know the timeline before each chapter.
Roger sat in his room, picking mindlessly at the guitar strings. He softly sang the lyrics that had been buzzing around his head all day before biting his thin upper lip and trying to find the correct notes on his Fender.
He took a drag from the cigarette that hung out of the corner of his mouth and smacked the neck of the guitar, as though that would help him find the song he was searching for.
Giving up for the time being, Roger slouched into the main room of the loft. Mark was out for the day filming something or other so he had the place to himself.
He rummaged through the refrigerator, and finding nothing to eat, grabbed a beer. He slumped down into the couch, wishing there were something to do around here.
If only Mimi…
He had promised himself that he wasn't going to dwell on the past.
He could go visit her and Angel's graves, but that would just depress him even more. Collins was teaching, trying to forget as well. Maureen and Joanne were somewhere visiting someone.
Who, Roger wasn't quite sure. He had basically stopped paying attention to people recently.
Except for when they were getting him drunk…then he paid just as much attention to them as it was necessary to.
Roger wondered aimlessly into Mark's room. There were battered cardboard boxes stacked floor to ceiling along one wall.
What could the nerdy guy possibly be storing in all of those? Roger wondered. Porn, he figured and reached forward eagerly to open the closest one.
A dark maroon leather bound album was on top and deep blue and a forest green coloured albums could be seen below it.
Roger lifted the top one out and flipped open the cover apprehensively. A picture that he knew well was staring up at him.
It was him and Mark, as five-year-olds, sitting together and laughing in a sandbox. This picture had been framed and hung in his mother's house to this day.
What the hell was Mark doing with all of these old photo albums? Roger thought as he continued to flip through the book, seeing that almost all of the pictures contained him.
They all brought up memories, some he remembered fondly, some made him want to cry, and some of them made him want to crawl under a rock.
Roger looked back at the box. There must have been twenty photo albums in there! It was going to take forever to go through all of them!
Well, at the very least, he had found something to do with himself for the afternoon.
A/N: Tada! Lame beginning, I know. Hopefully it'll get better. Reviews make me happy.