In the dimly lit school bathroom, Michael Kaiser leaned against the chipped porcelain sink, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers. The faint glow of the neon lights flickered above as the smoke curled lazily into the air, blending with the sharp scent of cleaning supplies.

"This place is full of clichés," he muttered, his eyes scanning the graffiti-covered walls. "The girls are all the same, and the guys—well, they look gay."

You leaned against the cracked tile wall, your arms crossed, maintaining a cool, detached expression despite the dizziness from the smoke.