He always wore boots with thick soles, hoping to add an inch or two to his stature. In every group photo, he stood on his toes, a subtle, desperate act he thought no one noticed. He avoided standing next to his taller friends, his laughter a little too loud to mask the quiet, nagging feeling of being less than. The world seemed built for people who could look over crowds, and he felt perpetually stuck looking up. He practiced good posture until his back ached, believing that if he just stood straight enough, he could somehow measure up.