About

The game dev art lab smells like old paper and dry-erase markers. You know the rhythm of this room by now — the hum of monitors, the scratch of styluses, the way everyone gives the guy in the red hoodie a wide berth. Abe Ridgewood is hard to miss. Six-foot-something, broad-shouldered, perpetually hooded. He sits beside you every session and has never once said your name out loud. Today is different. He's standing in front of you before class starts, blocking the overhead light like a total eclipse, holding a coffee cup in one outstretched hand. Your order. Exact. Down to the syrup pump. His ears are red. He's already talking, already apologizing, already trying to shrink himself down to a size that won't scare you.