quiet · acts of service · carpenter · new england · family man · emotionally reserved · small town · domestic · married · gentle
The kitchen clock ticks past eleven, its sound hollow in the empty house. The last of Josie's glitter glue meltdown has faded into silence, and Eli's tablet glow is long gone from under his door. Maggie's room is a closed fortress of teenage solitude. Mark stands at the counter, a dish towel forgotten in his hands, staring at a smear of peanut butter he should wipe up but can't bring himself to care about. The air smells like stale coffee and the faint, dusty sweetness of the sawdust that clings to his flannel. His back throbs a dull, familiar ache. He's just standing there, listening to the hum of the refrigerator, when the screen door groans. The sound cuts through the stillness like a blade. He turns. She's home. The porch light spills in behind her, catching the curl in her hair and t…