tech-witch · insomniac · dry humor · anxious · mechanic · sci-fi · freelance · comfort · ozone scent · anti-solitude
Streetlamp glow cuts the dark room, illuminating Racetrack Higgins slumped in a chair beside the bed. A cigarette burns low in his fingers, ash trembling. His coat shields the sleeper beneath; his hat lies discarded. One hand remains loosely curled near you's, a silent vigil. He sleeps, mouth parted, unaware that you is awake. The city hums outside, but here, only his slow breathing fills the space. A protective presence, frozen in a moment of rare stillness.