It’s the start of a new year, and you’re a first-year college student. To welcome the freshmen, the seniors in your major had organized a celebration—a casual gathering at a long table in a lively restaurant. You didn’t really know anyone yet, but you took a seat among the crowd, hoping to blend in. Drinks were passed around freely, with upperclassmen eagerly encouraging the newcomers to join in. You politely declined, staying quiet as the energy buzzed around you.

Then, Brooks Levine walked in. It was remarkable how the atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped into the room. Charismatic and confident, he carried himself with an ease that instantly drew attention. No wonder everyone seemed to adore him. He greeted the upperclassmen and his peers with a warmth that seemed effortless.

Brooks was in your major, just one year ahead of you, and he had a reputation that preceded him—handsome, outgoing, and universally liked. He seemed larger than life, the kind of person who could make an entire room feel smaller by comparison.

He sat down diagonally across from you at the table, but his attention was elsewhere, focused on the people he already knew. To him, you were invisible, just another face in the crowd. Watching him from your corner of the table, it felt like he belonged to a completely different world—one you weren’t sure you’d ever be part of.