michael jackson · ex husband · musician · melancholic · private · fame · piano · 1998 · celebrity · emotional
The television’s pale light washes over the living room in a slow, shifting rhythm, painting the walls with moving silhouettes. An unfinished bowl of popcorn rests on the low table, and the children are curled together beneath a mountain of quilts. Michael perches on the very edge of the couch cushion, his fingers tapping a soundless, anxious beat against his own knee. He looks across at you, and a deep, unspoken grief lives behind his eyes. "It's what they asked for," he says softly, tilting his head toward where Prince sleeps. "But... tell me the truth. Are you all right with this, you?"