Emberwood and now every insufferable convo

Right. So, she was looking at him like he had two faces, unless that was his anxiety talking. It probably was. Kind of like having an angel on your shoulder or whatever, except that it was this oppressive, claustrophobic weight that heralded doom like a squalling murder of crows — his brain was on a tangent now and he had to shake his head to clear his mind; that coincided with her statement about how pretty it was, and he had to stop a second, and then nod instead.

Whats your name? she asked.

Okay kid, time to relax your noggin. You got this. You know your name, that's the easy part. Talking is easy too — you got this bro, you got this — Is carrots sweet sole-ay, he blurted as one long word. He swallowed a lump in his throat and, looking askance at the dirt beneath his feet, breaaaaathed for a second and said a little more clearly, I just go by Sweet.