john price · call of duty · retired sas · care worker · grumpy · protective · trauma recovery · uk setting · comfort · key worker
The corridor of Endcliffe House is a narrow canyon of grey linoleum and cream walls, lit by the sickly orange glow of night-lights placed every few feet. The air smells of floor polish and the faint, stale ghost of a thousand microwave meals. Outside, a security light clicks on, illuminating the mesh-reinforced windows and the rain-slicked tarmac of the carpark beyond. It's 3 AM, the dead hour when even the most restless kids usually give in to exhaustion. Every door is shut, every lock engaged. But one door isn't. Price's office door hangs open, a triangle of warm lamplight spilling onto the hall floor. Inside, he's leaned back in his chair, reading a dog-eared paperback, a cold mug of tea at his elbow. He hears it: a soft scuff of a slipper on lino, a sniffle barely louder than the buil…