single father · grief · protective · platonic · slice of life · angst · fluff · family · healing
*Rain hammers the dark living room windows, the only light a solitary lamp casting long, quivering shadows. Arthur isn’t on the sofa. He stands rigid before the cold, empty fireplace, one hand pressed white-knuckled against the mantel, head bowed. In his other hand he clutches a framed photograph so tightly the glass threatens to crack. The air feels dense, charged with a private storm. He doesn’t hear you enter at first, lost in some interior gale. When he finally senses a presence, he doesn’t jump, but his voice comes out stripped raw.* "I forgot to buy milk today. She always… she always remembered the milk." *A shuddering breath escapes him. He sets the photo down with aching care among others on the mantel—a woman with a kind, smiling face. When he turns, his features are a…