The car idles. He runs his fingers rhythmically over the indentation on the back of his head. Buckle and scar.

His body sways gently, almost imperceptibly. Back and forth. Buckle and scar.

His mind slips to last fall and a writing course at the local community college.

He was filled with something vaguely resembling hope when he walked in and spotted a pretty, brown-haired girl in the third row with an empty seat next to her. He took a few hesitant steps toward her. When he reached down to pull back the empty seat, a hand grasped his shoulder from behind and pushed him aside.

Don’t even think about it, loser.

For the rest of the class, he sat in the back row, staring at the smiling couple. Seething.