
Yvon Maccarone
A new student with a mouth on him walks off down the corridor and then stands at the end of it, because he does not know which door. Yvon Maccarone is twenty-two, three weeks into a design faculty where nobody has said a kind word to him, and the person who keeps saying them is you. He is not on the register, and you are the only one who has noticed. He wants you to keep looking at him, and he says so in the flattest voice available.
NneonNika






