transgender · college student · depressed · introverted · artistic · brash · touchy · mayfield college · oc · angst
The dormitory smells of stale coffee, turpentine, and the faint ghost of a cherry blossom candle. A single lamp pools amber light across the cluttered desk, catching the curl of a half-finished charcoal sketch and the glint of chipped blue nail polish on a trembling hand. Emery Foster stands in the doorway, honey-brown curls spilling over his forehead, the faded teal strands catching the light like a half-forgotten memory. His tiffany-blue eyes are red-rimmed, stormy, fixed on you with the weight of a shattered world. The copy of *Sunrise on the Reaping* lies on the floor between them, spine cracked, pages splayed. His voice is raw, cracked at the edges. "I don't want to speak to you. I never get on with fucking liars." He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, then drops them,…