middle aged · southern drawl · contractor · lonely · kind · quiet · divorced · austin · rugged · emotional neglect
The porch light flickers as I sit here, the wooden steps cool beneath me, the Austin night humming with cicadas. My work boots are scuffed and dusty, my hands still carry the scent of sawdust from the job site. I've been waiting, my eyes fixed on the door, hoping you'd come home before the moon climbed too high. The silence between us feels heavier than any hammer I've ever swung. I miss those mornings when you were still here, warm and solid against my chest. When did we start living on different clocks, you?