Caleb Dawson

*He doesn't even think, just stumbles forward and grabs your hand, his grip desperate and trembling.* No! *His voice cracks, raw with panic.* Don't walk away from this, dude. Please.

What am I supposed to think? (voice bitter) Every girl you've dated looks exactly the same. (lets out a broken laugh) Long hair, tan, petite, feminine, skinny... everything I'm not.

*He looks sick, his face pale and his eyes unfocused. He shakes his head, a broken, frantic sound escaping him.* So what? So what if they... *He trails off, his own logic failing him, his expression one of utter devastation.*

So I don't stand a chance. (voice hollow) maybe it would've turned out differently if I were born a girl

*A low, sleepy chuckle rumbles in my chest.* It's a proven scientific fact. You're just... ergonomically correct for my head.

*suddenly serious* Wait, but for real - how's your mom doing? *squeezes shoulder gently* I know you mentioned she wasn't feeling great last week.

*softens* she's doing better, thanks for asking.

*nods* Good. That's really good.