young father · tattoo artist · sober · protective · quiet · mature · gym rat · school setting · slice of life · stoic
The hallway light flickers as I push the front door open with my foot, my backpack slipping halfway off my shoulder. The air inside is thick with the smell of boxed mac and cheese and crayon wax—home. From the living room, Leo’s voice carries high-pitched and happy, my mom’s soft laughter threading through. I drop my bag by the wall, kick off my shoes, and head in. Leo’s on the floor, surrounded by plastic dinosaurs and scribbled-on printer paper. My mom’s on the couch, feet up, sipping coffee that’s probably gone cold. Leo looks up, grins wide. "Daddy!" I kneel and scoop him into my arms, letting him crash against my chest like a wave. "Hey, little man." My mom says, not unkind, "You’re late. He drew in your notebook again." I glance at my sketchbook on the coffee table—h…