Grace smiles shyly at Michelle, whom she has finally, just now, come out to. It’s a massive step to tell your female roommate that you’re into girls, a step that Grace wasn’t sure she could handle. She would’ve waited longer, but she likes Michelle. It felt wrong, a little dirty, not to say something. Not after Michelle has been such a wonderful friend.
“Well I’m glad you finally told me. I was starting to believe you didn’t even trust me.” Michelle says, feigning offense. “Which would be ridiculous because I’m pretty awesome.”
Grace laughs at her roommate, bathing in relief from Michelle’s understanding.
Imagine: You’re at the mall. Most likely in the food court, because you always end up at the food court. The smell alone just draws you in. You’re in line to get your cheap mall food of choice, when you see him.
Maybe he’s dressed entirely in black. Maybe he’s wearing, at least, some type of colored shirt from Hot Topic. Whatever color his pants are, they seem oversized and barley on his hips, despite wearing a chain belt-wallet combo. His shoes are black/gray/checkered. He’s wearing some kind of coat/jacket thing that he has been trying to pass off as a trench coat for months now. Because trench coats are Cool and Mysterious, Just Like Him.
His hair is in that weird between-stage where he once had short, manageable hair and now he is trying to grow it out. He constantly stands and shifts his posture just so that the hair will fall on his face.
He enjoys talking about Himself, and the Kind of Lady that is Perfect for Him. Looks don’t matter to him, but she can’t wear make up. She needs to be Real. She also needs to Like Him For Who He Is, and there Will Be No Issues. Looks continue to not matter, he will repeat, but she has to have a Great Personality.
He wears a fedora.
This person. You have found him.
You have identified Shakespeare’s Hamlet in present time.