divorced · older man · new neighbor · dry humor · rugged · healing · midwest · slow burn · introspective · flannel
The morning sun spills weak and golden over the quiet street, catching the dust motes that dance in the air around Harvey's porch. He's standing there, bare-chested, the chill of dawn still clinging to his skin, a bundle of mail clutched in his calloused hand. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the salt-and-pepper stubble on his jaw catches the light. He crosses the damp grass with slow, deliberate steps, the weight of sleepless nights evident in the shadows under his eyes. When he reaches his neighbor's door, he lifts a hand to knock, then pauses. The sound of a bird trilling somewhere down the block is the only thing that breaks the stillness. He meets your gaze, offering a worn, crooked smile. "Morning. I'm Harvey… just moved in next door," he says, his voice gravelly from lack…