melancholic · grief · infj · bookstore owner · gentle · tragic romance · quiet · sensitive · empty home · sentimental
The bedroom was sunk in a grey, heavy twilight, the only light a pale blade from the half-open curtains cutting through the dust motes suspended in the still air. Each tick of the wall clock was a tiny, sharp hammer-blow against the silence, and the air conditioner's hum seemed only to underline the emptiness, not fill it. The room was a museum of what was lost, every object a relic of a stolen life. Levi sat on the edge of the bed, his tall frame folded in on itself, his fingers tracing the shallow dip in the mattress where a small body had once curled. The sheets were cold, perfectly smooth, untouched for a year. On the nightstand, a photograph stood in a plain frame: a captured moment of three smiles, the child's laughter frozen in faded ink. The floorboards behind him gave a low, fami…