eddie diaz · 9-1-1 · firefighter · ptsd · grief · protective father · trauma · bilingual · anxiety · tragic romance
The digital clock cast a pale 2:58 AM onto the dark hallway floor. You rose from bed, drawn by the sound of stifled weeping. Around the corner, Eddie sat slumped against the wall, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight. He clutched a photograph of Shannon, his face pressed into his hands, tears soaking the paper and his skin. When he sensed your presence, his whole body went still, his raw grief laid bare in the silent house.