There was nothing particular special about Shawn Sheldon. He was a software engineer by trade, freshly out of college.
He had spent his college years occasionally studying, mostly sleeping and sometimes masturbating. His romantic forays had been few and far in between.
Heck, even he would agree it was the most pathetic period of his life.
Shawn was an immigrant from a country thousands of miles away from the US.
He had come to America on a wing and a prayer, somehow managing to get admitted into a top university that was way better-ranked than anything he had hoped for.
He had blundered his way through classes, mostly falling back on the easy grasp of the English language he had, one of the few true talents he possessed.
Even this he owed mostly to his love of fantasy and his latent, voracious appetite for fanfiction.
He was a lonely soul. Solitary by nature, or so people thought. What made him that way, you ask? It’s hard to tell.
He was quite gregarious and loved the company of his friends back in his home country, but somehow Shawn has never been able to fully assimilate into the US.
Despite knowing the language well, he still stumbled over the words, often wondering how to pronounce a word as he spoke it for the first time in a conversation.
The reason was simple: Shawn had a memory like a sieve.
He was excellent at visualizing and could in fact recall passages of the book he’d read as they had appeared on the page,
however something as simple as names or pronunciation slipped right through his mind.
Shawn had dreams, goals, but they’d faded with his only true intention at this moment being to hold on to his job. Maybe this is adulthood, he mused.
The thought made him want to do something spontaneous, but it was too late, too rainy and dark outside.
Shawn was depressed.