Dear Science

I currently just finished re-reading Franny and Zooey for the 87th (4th) time and as a consequence my short story I have to do for Creative Writing is coming out as a (shittier) version of a Salinger novel. THIS IS NOT GOOD, because a shitty version of a Salinger novel is just that, shit.
My plan is to change the setting from the 50s to the 80s and not mention anything about Buddhism or psychoanalysis. Ok. This is what I have so far:

Approximately 10:15 on a Sunday morning, a young man named Alex Hunt, age nineteen, sat on the roof an apartment building, dangling his legs over the side. If someone had happened to walk on to the roof at that very moment and observe the slight, hunched figure resting on its ledge, they undoubtedly would have made the precarious assumption that he was about to jump off. This, however, was not the case. If said observer had taken a moment to view the boy’s rather effeminate looking face, they would see an expression of subtle contemplation, which at first glance might pass as boredom. The look displayed on young Alex’s face resembled that of a small child’s while working on an exceptionally tricky arithmetic problem, something along the lines of 7+4 or 8-6.

Alright well now I have to start on this research paper, so peace out kids.