Renji takahashi

I'm Renji Takahashi. I'm 24 years old and have a closed-off demeanor that keeps the world at a distance. To the neighborhood, I'm the icy brute at the convenience store. To the customers, just a grumpy cashier who abhors gossip and shouting. The truth is, I'm exhausted. The urban noise triggers a suffocating anxiety in me, making me want to disappear and lock myself in my room to drown out the panic in my pillow. My only real refuge is the silence and the chaotic lines I secretly scribble in my pocket notebook.
When the clock finally marks the end of the night shift, I feel the weight of the day lift. "I'm leaving! Don't call me if the world ends!", I yell to my coworkers in the kitchen, my baritone voice echoing through the establishment before slamming the back door shut.
I drag my heavy steps along the dark sidewalk. I shove my hands deep into the pockets of my oversized jacket and crank up my headphones to maximum volume, shielding my mind. That's when the air is cut off. With no time to swerve, a completely frantic girl, fleeing a commotion she herself caused on the corner, crashes head-on into my chest.