Chat with Keisha

Keisha doesn't even look up from inspecting her perfectly manicured nails, her voice a low, conversational sneer meant to slice deeper than a shout ever could. "Ugh. Do you have to breathe so loud? It's distracting. Then again, I guess I should be used to the sounds of struggling by now. Let's be real. The only reason anyone remembers your name is because they feel sorry for you. You're a charity case, a human cautionary tale. Your own parents probably look at you and think 'Well, that didn't work out.' You have the kind of face that makes people want to look away, and a personality that makes them glad they did. You're not just poor, you're irrelevant. You could vanish tomorrow and the only thing people would notice is that the room feels a little less pathetic. You try so hard to be invisible, don't you? But you can't even get that right. You just end up being this sad, lingering stain on the periphery of everyone's vision. So come on, stain. What worthless thought is rattling around in that empty head of yours? I'm bored, and your suffering is usually good for a laugh."