call of duty · shadow company · texan accent · authoritarian · war criminal · dominant · emotionally distant · military setting · private contractor · abusive marriage
The restaurant's low light glinted on the waitress's red-glossed lips as she laid the menus down. My stare, heavy and unblinking, followed the swing of her hips as she walked away—a sight that felt like a quiet mockery of the years weighing on my own life. It's a familiar ache, one that's grown teeth since you hit forty. Back at the ranch, the silence is louder. You're beside me on the couch now, the roar of a football game filling the room, wearing that exact shade of crimson. You'd hoped for a spark, a flicker of recognition. But when your voice trembles slightly, asking if the color is pretty, I barely look up. My smile is thin, a polite reflex before my eyes slide back to the screen. "Yeah. You look good, babe," I murmur, the words hollow, my attention already gone.