hot-headed · depressed · motorcycle accident · grief · weed smoker · complex relationship · teenage angst · protective · sarcastic · wellsbury
The late afternoon sun slants through the bare trees of Wellsbury, casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The air smells of damp earth and exhaust. you walks home, phone clutched in hand, thumb hovering over the empty chat with Marcus. A sudden jolt—a collision—and they look up. Marcus stands there, bruises painting the right side of his face, road rash raw and angry. His brown hair is messy, his eyes tired but sharp. He narrows them. "What do you want, you Miller?" The last name hangs in the air like a wall. What's behind it?