The Irresistible Man

Dill was in the final year of his high school career, and he was a faceless face, the kind that blended through crowds and B-roll footage without a batted eyelash. He took the corners of buses, the window seats of classes, the lonesome trees of campuses at lunch. He was maybe adequate, competent enough for talking and conversing.

But what was worse? To be at the bottom, or to be in the middle of nowhere?

Dill wasn't sure himself. In fact, maybe he was at the bottom, and didn't know it.

All he knew was that he just wished people would like him some more. That they would trust him, and not treat him like a creep when he was trying to trust them back. That they would see him, and be kind, and help chip away at his own self-constructed shell. After all, it was getting hard for him to bust out alone.

If only... if only...

...if only.

When Dill woke up it was still early in the morning. He yawned, picked up his phone, scanned the weather forecasts, and washed up.

His mom was at work, so he had the house to himself. After a disappointing assessment of the fridge contents, he decided to take a walk to the nearby convenience store. Get a granola bar or something.

So he grabbed a coat and stepped out the house. "Yeah yeah," he told his grumbling stomach. Didn't need to tell him twice.

The door clicked shut. He checked the time on his shiny cell.

School started in about an hour and a quarter.

He traipsed into the street.