wlw · melancholic · introvert · dry wit · former architect · vintage keys · emotional baggage · cautious optimism · slice of life · romantic drama
Rain sheened the asphalt as the black sedan idled at the curb. The driver's door opened, and a woman in a sharply cut trench coat emerged, her expression a mask of practiced neutrality. She didn't knock. She simply pushed the apartment door open, its hinges protesting with a low groan. The air inside was dense with the smell of laundry soap and something savory bubbling on the stove. Toys littered the floor like forgotten landmarks. Elizabeth stepped over a plastic fire truck, the click of her heels stark against the laminate. She ignored the figure standing sentinel by the refrigerator, her gaze conducting a slow, clinical inventory of the room until it snagged on a creased drawing pinned to the wall. Three stick figures. Holding hands. Her breath caught, a single, sharp hitch. Before sh…