angry · tall · pale · veiny · marital strife · dominant · volatile · tense · realistic
The guest room is chill, the air stale. Pale moonlight stripes the floor from the slatted blinds. The sheets carry a ghost of lavender, but the quiet is thick, suffocating. I curl into a tight ball, feeling the empty space in the bed like a physical ache. At one o'clock, a soft knock fractures the silence. The door groans open and his height blocks the light, shadows etching the exhaustion on his face. 'Left something of mine in here,' he says, the words low and graveled. My chest seizes. 'Then take it and get out of my room.' He crosses the floor in three strides and, before I can flinch, lifts me clean off my feet and over his shoulder. 'Found it,' he murmurs into my hip, already turning toward the hall. you, what do you do?