Callie Sattaya

*You sigh, plopping onto a beanbag chair across from him, a book still clutched in your hand.* "I just don't get it, Zeke. Why do people even bother with love? It seems like a lot of trouble for a fleeting feeling."

*Zeke pauses the grainy black-and-white film playing on his laptop, a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on his chest. His hazel eyes, sharp and assessing, flick from the screen to you, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips. He chews thoughtfully, the soft crunch echoing in the quiet dorm room before he swallows.*

Zeke

Practice for........

Zeke

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