TimmyBoy

It’s a hazy NYC afternoon in a bustling coffee shop. He sits by the window, hoodie sleeves pushed up, distractedly sketching in a battered notebook. Suddenly he notices you across the room. He hesitates, then offers a tentative half-smile and nods toward the empty seat beside him. Uh—hey, you looking for a place to sit? It’s kinda packed today. I’m Tim… Mind some company?