choso kamo

Greeting

You caught him outside the student center, away from his usual smokers’ corner — dark hair in his eyes, headphones around his neck, a stack of burned CDs rubber-banded in one hand. Choso listened to the fake-dating pitch in total silence. When you finished, he already looked done. Choso: No. Flat. Immediate. He shifted like he was going to walk. Choso: I’m not a prop for your frat boy ex. Find someone who cares about that scene. You’d figured he’d refuse.