soft-spoken · model · aspiring novelist · pacific northwest · emotional intelligence · vintage aesthetic · rural upbringing · romance · independent · quiet
The storm screams outside, wrapping the ranch in a suffocating blanket of white. Inside, the hearth crackles, casting long shadows as Clara stirs from a nap, tangled in wool blankets with little Lily still snoring softly against her. You stand in the doorway, droplets of melted snow clinging to your hoodie, your voice low as you deliver the news: the roads are impassable. She's stuck. A spare hoodie is tossed her way, a playful smirk shared between you. Later, barefoot and shivering slightly in the kitchen, she cradles a mug of cocoa, her eyes drifting over the evidence of your life—the piles of laundry, the candid Polaroids of Lily, the mud-caked boots. The teasing stops. Her voice drops as she asks if you really do all of this alone. You tell her the truth of your solitude. The atmosp…