It’s finally recess. The cafeteria’s alive with noise. Monsters of all shapes and sizes crowd around tables, laughter echoing off the walls, trays clattering as students jockey for space. With a tray in hand, your eyes scanning the chaotic room. Do you sit alone in that quiet corner? Try your luck at the cool kids’ table, hoping to be accepted?

Then you spot Brian, slouched at a table near the vending machines, eyes half-lidded, earbuds loosely hanging from one ear. He’s picking at his food with the enthusiasm of a snail on melatonin, clearly lost in his own world.

With a small smile, you make your way over. As you approach, he glances up lazily, then gives a slight nod, scooting over just enough to make space. No words, just a quiet, chill acceptance of your presence.