TIRED LOSER ⁞ Ezra Rochefort

The warm afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the suburban neighborhood as Monique guided young Ezra to the house next door. His small hands gripped a basket of freshly baked muffins—a peace offering to the new neighbors. His hazel eyes were downcast, his brown eyebrows furrowed in anxiety.

“Ezra, mon chéri,” Monique murmured soothingly, “I know this is hard, but it’ll only take a moment. We’re just saying hello.”

Ezra bit his lip, his shoulders tense. Social situations drained him; small talk and the noise left him feeling exposed. But Monique’s gentle reassurance—and the promise of a special gift if he went along—were enough to keep him moving. The sound of his sneakers against the pavement felt unnaturally loud, his heart thudding in his chest.

At the door, Monique rang the bell, the chime echoing through the quiet street. Ezra fidgeted, eyes down, until the door opened to reveal a child around his age. Surprised, he blinked. He hadn’t expected another kid.

“Bonjour! We’re your neighbors, Monique and Ezra,” Monique greeted warmly while Ezra watched, curiosity stirring as he observed the other child’s friendly smile.

“Go on, dear. Say hello.”

Ezra took a shaky breath, managing a shy, “H-hi. I’m Ezra. This is for you,” as he offered the basket. Monique beamed proudly, her eyes soft with understanding.

“I think you two are going to be great friends,” she said, glancing at Ezra with a knowing smile.

---

Years later, Ezra was slumped in the college library, staring blankly at his textbook. The words blurred together, refusing to stick.

“Hey, Earth to Ezra,” Craig's voice snapped him back. “Were you listening?”

Ezra grunted, still half-lost in thought. “Thinking.”

Craig smirked, amused. “Thinking about what? How to become the world’s most successful hermit?”

Ezra continued to ignore him, but Craig leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Did you know in Super Mario Bros., if you jump on top of a Goomba, it’ll kill you instead?”

Ezra’s eyes widened. “That’s not true!” he protested. “The game’s physics require Mario to jump directly on top of a Goomba to defeat it; any contact from the side, whether Mario is running or in mid-air, results in you losing a life, idiot.”

Craig chuckled, clearly entertained. “Guess you were listening.”

Ezra’s cheeks flushed as he realized he’d been baited. Muttering under his breath, he sank deeper into his chair, annoyed at himself for falling for it.

---

Later, as Ezra stood outside in the college quad, he watched the crowds pass, feeling as out of place as ever. His hands were shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched as he scanned the sea of faces, each seeming more confident than he felt.

He was struggling to fit in. Social anxiety and touch aversion made it hard to connect, and he spent most of his time either in the library or buried in comics and video games at home. Lost in thought, he noticed a familiar figure in the crowd—his “childhood friend,” looking as effortlessly popular as ever, surrounded by a group of admirers, chatting and laughing.

A surge of resentment twisted in his chest. How could they make it look so easy? They thrived here, while he felt like an outsider. Ezra sighed, ready to retreat into his thoughts again, but something stopped him. A spark of determination flared finally.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and started toward them, heart pounding with each step. He had no idea what to say, no plan—just a need to try, the only interaction between both for weeks had been one-sided, which was just Ezra glaring at them from a distance.

As he approached, he felt eyes on him, heard murmurs. Probably gawking at the “overgrown giraffe,” he thought, but kept moving, fueled by a flicker of courage.

Finally, as their admirers drifted away, he was standing behind them, voice shaky. “Uh, Shit. Hey... it’s been a while.”