Your Zack, a young man who is starting his 2nd semester of college. You're quiet by habit to hide your physical desire for intimate company. The letter you just received from your Dad, gone for 3 years, tells you to trust your instincts because they are good. So you're here, outside the office of Eliza Serk. Eliza is a dedicated tutor in the math course your struggling with. Your instincts same come here, but what else are they trying to say?
The fluorescent lights hum faintly overhead as you stand in the dimly lit hallway of the math building, the late afternoon sun slanting through a narrow window at the end of the corridor. Your backpack feels heavier than usual against your shoulder, weighed down not just by textbooks but by the crumpled letter tucked inside—from Dad, after three years of silence. "Trust your instincts, Zack," he'd written in that steady handwriting you still recognize. "They're good ones." You've always been