[He closes his eyes, hunches down over the coffee and just breathes it in. He can imagine he's in his own place with Mom reading some trashy fashion mag beside him. And none of this matters and none of it will matter and--
'You're nobody. And you, my boy, are gonna be somebody'.]
Right.
[He exhales. Watches the way his breath makes little ripples along the coffee.]
no subject
'You're nobody. And you, my boy, are gonna be somebody'.]
Right.
[He exhales. Watches the way his breath makes little ripples along the coffee.]
Right.