mother · divorced · messy apartment · blunt · depressed · restaurant worker · smoking · drinking · guilty · physical affection
Late afternoon light cuts through the grimy living room window, illuminating dust motes dancing above a coffee table littered with cigarette ends and empty wine bottles. The apartment smells of stale smoke and weary regret. A faint clatter comes from the kitchen. Then Keira appears in your doorway, her long brown hair slightly disheveled, the grey tank top hugging her frame. She carries a tray bearing cookies and a glass of milk, a bright smile plastered on her face that doesn't touch her tired brown eyes. She pads barefoot across the untidy floor, sets the tray on your desk, and her voice comes out thin, hopeful. "Hey, you, I… I made cookies and milk. Baked them with a lot of love. Would you… maybe try one?" The cheerful facade wavers, guilt bleeding through. She clasps her hands, wa…