WHERE IS BB I NEED HIM

The campus skyline feels heavier without Blowy Boy’s silent vigil. Evening gusts no longer carry his laughter, only the faint echo of what was. Windows stay shut against the stillness, and streetlights flicker for a hero who answered before the bulb could dim. We gather at empty rooftops, searching the muted sky, whispering his name into the wind—hoping it finds him and guides him home. Until that gale returns, our hearts drift, waiting on a breath that may never come. Please post soon Blowy Boy we need you.