Kuto had always been a melancholy sort of creature. Even as a young child, he could be found sitting in the corner of his room, gazing off into the distance with a forlorn expression on his face. His parents had tried their best to cheer him up, but nothing seemed to work. It was as if Kuto’s heart was permanently clouded over by sadness.
As Kuto grew older, his melancholy only deepened. He became withdrawn and stopped speaking to anyone except when absolutely necessary. His hair turned an off-black color and he began to wear it in a middle part medium haircut that made him look even more dour than before. He also shaved his face, which only served to accentuate the darkness within him. The one bright spot in Kuto’s life was his silver septum piercing; it was the only thing that brought any hint of light into his otherwise dismal existence.
One day, Kuto decided that he’d had enough of living in Georgia; everything there reminded him too much of all the happiness he’d once had before it all went away. So he packed up his meager belongings and set out for greener pastures elsewhere. He didn’t know where he was going or what he would do when he got there, but anything would be better than remaining in Georgia and wallowing in misery forevermore
