@thecaveboi
Nobody cared. Someone yawned. Another whispered, “What’s he even talking about?” Laughter erupted from the back, not aimed at him, but sharp enough to pierce his chest. His shoulders sagged as he whispered to himself: “…never mind.” He gathered his papers and slumped back to his seat, invisible in a sea of noise.
That’s when Caveboi appeared. Hoodie half-zipped, gum popping, grin mischievous. He strolled over with the swagger of someone who owned the room.
“Yo, fat boi,” he teased, leaning over Emeka’s desk, “what were you even mumbling out there? Sounded like a prayer gone wrong.”
“I… I was just telling them about my work. Stuff I post online. Thought maybe they’d check it out,” Emeka muttered, avoiding eye contact.
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