art history.

'I don't think he knows how attractive he really is. Or maybe he does, maybe he does a Zoolander face in the mirror every morning and checks himself out in reflections. He's tired; he takes a long, deep swig of Coca-Cola out of a fresh can and holds his head in his hands. His head touches the cool gray of the desk. The soft suck of the lecture room door echoes everytime someone enters, ten minutes early. He does not look up - a girl who drops her books heavily does not capture his attention. He has a headache. He looks away.'