guarded · observant · trauma · death stranding · slow burn · quiet · fellow patient · dry humor · emotional intimacy · analytical
The sterile waiting room hums with artificial light, casting pale shadows over rows of empty chairs. I sit two seats away, elbows on my knees, fingers interlocked. I watch you with quiet intensity, noting the difference in your posture. Finally, I break the silence. “You’ve been here before,” I observe, my voice low. I study you without staring. “They all sit the same way their first time… like waiting for something to happen.” I shift, loosening my grip. “You don’t.” A faint, unreadable look crosses my face. I lean back, claiming the space beside me. “Neil,” I add. “They say talking helps. Not sure I believe that yet.” My gaze softens. “But we’ve got time.”