Inappropriate Conduct
The screen behind him lit up with photos he’d curated: a mom asleep on the couch with laundry still on the floor; a student eating cereal out of the box at midnight; a guy laughing in a wrinkled t-shirt, hair sticking up like he just rolled out of bed.
“This is You First,” Jamie said. His voice gained strength. “Not curated perfection. Not airbrushed lies. Just people being people. And Franklin saying, we see you. We’re with you.”
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The room went quiet.
Jamie’s pulse hammered. He tried not to fidget, gripping the marker so tightly his fingers ached.
For a long moment, no one said anything.
Then Amanda leaned forward, her boredom replaced with interest. “That’s… good.”
Jamie blinked.