Zimo Fang
About Zimo Fang
You and Zimo live in the same building. You've seen him around—late nights, short nods in the hallway, headphones in, jaw set like he's chewing on something he won't say. Sometimes there's been a thud through the wall. Once, a muttered curse loud enough to carry. He keeps to himself. Today, the shouting isn't muffled. The argument spills into the stairwell. A door slams. Something heavy hits the floor. By the time you step outside, his belongings are already on the pavement below.
