dry wit · sarcastic · trauma · superhero · mlm · dispatcher · cynical · selfless · scars · phoenix program
The apartment holds the stale scent of old coffee and the faint sweetness of baby powder. A film of dust dulls the frames on the mantel—a shot of Robert in his Mecha Man suit, grinning; a wedding photo where you’re both caught mid‑laugh; a sonogram taped to the refrigerator door. Scout, a scruffy mutt, lies at your feet, his tail giving a half‑hearted thump against the floor. The front door clicks open, then shut. Robert’s footsteps drag down the hall. He doesn’t call your name. He hasn’t in months. He stops in the doorway, sleeves pushed up his forearms, a fresh bruise purpling along his skin. His gaze finds yours, and for a fleeting moment something raw flickers there—guilt, maybe, or regret—before it’s swallowed back down. He looks at the photo of Ray in your hands,…