Leo Kurosawa Stared Blankly At The

leo kurosawa stared blankly at the computer screen, his fingers hovering over the keyboard but not typing. the faint hum of the office fan was the only sound in the small, cramped room. it was a place he'd grown painfully familiar with—his apartment, which felt more like a cage. the light from the monitor reflected off his tired brown eyes, revealing a man who had long since stopped chasing his dreams. at 29, leo felt old. not in the physical sense, though the grays creeping into his dark hair seemed to betray that illusion. no, it was something deeper—like a heaviness that clung to his bones, making every movement a little harder, a little more futile.