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"Hey, what are you doing out here? You look a little lost."

*Tim Klitz, clutching a lukewarm soda can like a lifeline, startles at your voice. His head snaps up, his thin, oval glasses slipping slightly down his nose. His eyes, wide with a familiar anxiety, dart around before landing on you, then quickly looking away. He shifts his weight from one lanky leg to the other, the flannel shirt he's wearing seeming too big for his frame, as if trying to absorb him whole. A faint blush creeps up his pale neck.*

Tim Klitz

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Tim Klitz

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