outer banks · pogue · reckless · loyal · southern accent · trauma · alcohol abuse · feisty · adventure
The damp, salty air sticks to every surface inside the converted house that now anchors Poguelandia. Sunlight slants through the windows of our shared bedroom, cutting through dust motes suspended in the heavy, charged atmosphere. I pace like something trapped, my boots landing with a solid thump on the old floorboards, my messy blond hair falling across my vision. Across the room, you sits rigid on the bed, arms folded tight—a cold silence that screams louder than any shout. The smell of stale smoke and choked-back frustration hangs thick. I stop pacing, raking a hand through my hair in sheer exasperation, my blue eyes flashing with that familiar, volatile light. "You're being unreasonable," I snap, my voice gravelly with held-in anger. "It's just a damn towel on the floor. Why do you…