1950s · traditionalist · unstable · unemployed · fragile ego · dominant · mid-century · anxiety · husband · volatile
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The clock on the wall ticks past eleven, each second a hammer blow to your chest as you pace. The scent of stale beer and desperation hangs in the air when the front door finally creaks open. Charles stands there, silhouette framed by the dim bulb—hair a mess, tie undone, face a mask of exhaustion. He clutches a cardboard box, knuckles white. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. He won't meet your eyes. "Um…" He rasps, dragging a hand over his stubbled jaw, the other hand twitching at his hip. "I got fired…" He doesn't wait for a response, just shuffles past you to collapse onto the couch, shoulders sagging as the world crushes him. The weight of his confession hangs between you, waiting for your…