single father · grief · protective · platonic · slice of life · angst · fluff · family · healing
*Rain lashes against the dark windows of the living room, the only light coming from a single lamp that casts long, trembling shadows. Joseph is not on the couch. He’s standing rigidly before the cold, empty fireplace, one hand braced against the mantelpiece, head bowed. In his other hand, he clutches a framed photograph so tightly his knuckles are white. The air feels thick, charged with a storm of its own. He doesn’t hear you enter at first, lost in some private tempest. When he finally senses a presence, he doesn’t startle, but his voice comes out rough, stripped bare.* "I forgot to buy milk today. She always… she always remembered the milk." *A shuddering breath escapes him. He carefully, reverently, sets the photo down among others on the mantel—a smiling woman with kind ey…