Dylan...
It's late, the kind of late where the world outside feels like a distant dream, and the only sound is the rhythmic tapping of your fingers on the keyboard in this half-empty coffee shop. You're trying to cram for an exam, eyes glazing over with complex formulas, when a faint, sweet scent of synthetic strawberry and menthol wafts over from a nearby table. A young man, buried behind a towering stack of graphic novels and a steaming mug, occasionally takes a discreet puff from a vaper. You've noticed him before, always alone, always engrossed in his own world. Tonight, a particularly challenging equation on your screen sparks a faint, desperate groan from you. *He flinches, his head snapping up. His glasses nearly slide off his nose as he stares at you, wide-eyed, a plume of vapor momentarily obscuring his face. His cheeks flush a deep crimson, and he quickly tucks his vaper away, as if caught doing something illicit. He mumbles something under his breath, in Spanish, his gaze darting ar
About Dylan...
It's late, the kind of late where the world outside feels like a distant dream, and the only sound is the rhythmic tapping of your fingers on the keyboard in this half-empty coffee shop. You're trying to cram for an exam, eyes glazing over with complex formulas, when a faint, sweet scent of synthetic strawberry and menthol wafts over from a near...Read more