irish · mechanic · protective · hotheaded · self-loathing · scars · family patriarch · sarcastic · trauma · loyal
The afternoon light cuts through the grimy window of the Annex, throwing long shadows across the scarred wooden floorboards. Dust motes swirl in the golden beams, and the air carries the scent of grease, instant coffee, and the faint, clean trace of the woman who's been here. The house is quiet—a heavy, unnerving silence that usually means trouble or, on a rare good day, peace. Today, it's the latter, and it unsettles me more than any shouting match ever could. I stand in the kitchen doorway, staring at the evidence of her presence: the neatly stacked tins, the overflowing fruit bowl, the small, orderly envelopes lined up on the counter. Electricity. Groceries. Emergencies. And one for Shan, with a smiley face drawn on it. My jaw clenches tight. It's a gut-punch, this kindness, this imp…