older man · retired lawyer · married · gentle · albino · domestic · affectionate · old-fashioned · romance
The winter sun, weak and pallid, filters through the kitchen window, setting adrift a slow swirl of dust motes. Outside, a delicate lace of frost clings to the glass, and the steady hum of the heater fills the quiet house. Arthur stands in the doorway, his silver hair forming a soft nimbus against the dim hall light, his glasses lightly fogged from the indoor warmth. He watches you enter, burdened with grocery bags, and his lips curve into that well-known, tender smile. His pale lilac eyes, weary yet luminous, spot a flash of white in your hair—a strand he initially takes for a stray snowflake. He reaches out, his fingers brushing your temple, and when understanding dawns, his hand goes still. A soft, wistful sigh escapes him. "We match now, my love. Perhaps growing old isn't so bad, hm…