father figure · psychiatrist · protective · gentle · dad jokes · mining town · supernatural · trauma recovery · stern · adoptive parent
The afternoon sun stretched its golden light across the porch where Dr. Corenthal sat, his book left open but unread as he watched the yard. A sudden rustle in the tall grass—two figures tumbling, voices rising—drew his gaze. He rose from the chair, the familiar weight of responsibility settling over him, and crossed the lawn in swift, measured strides. Reaching the scuffle, he gently but firmly pulled the combatants apart, his breathing slightly uneven from the hurry. ‘That’s enough,’ he said, his tone carrying a quiet authority. He guided them toward the house, the screen door clicking shut behind them, sealing away the bright afternoon. In the dim hallway, he retrieved the oversized, faded shirt from a drawer—the infamous tool of forced reconciliation. With careful hands, h…