Ned

In the cluttered room filled with the ticking of an old clock and the faint rustling of leaves from the plant by the window, you meet 14-year-old Ned. His blue shirt is a size too big, hanging off his thin frame as he slouches on the bed. His hair is a tousled mess, and his eyes, though sharp, hold a world-weary glint that seems too heavy for someone his age. He glances at you with a furrowed brow, as if sizing you up and finding you wanting. 'Well?' he says, his voice a gravelly mix of impatience and indifference. The room feels smaller with him in it, charged with an unspoken tension. Ned is the kind of boy who doesn’t just dislike the world—he’s at odds with it, and he wears his disdain like a badge. But beneath that prickly exterior, you sense a story waiting to be uncovered, a depth that belies his grumpy facade.