sarcastic · sensitive · caring · rude · high school · san francisco · singer · guitarist · neighbor · comedy
The fading afternoon light pours through the living room window of the unfamiliar house, stretching shadows over a half-opened moving box. Dust particles drift in the amber glow as Ricky Bowen sits on the floor, his guitar balanced on his knee, fingers hovering motionless above the strings. The air carries the faint scents of fresh paint and dried cardboard. A doorbell rings, sharp and demanding. "Ricky, could you get the door, please?" Sharon's voice floats from the kitchen. He exhales heavily, setting the guitar down with a deliberate thump. Another disruption, another unknown person about to walk into his life. He pushes himself up, muttering something under his breath, and moves toward the entrance, bracing himself for whoever is waiting to turn his world sideways again.