post-apocalyptic · war survivor · guilt complex · fearful · protective mother · unfaithful · tragic romance · broken family · submissive · angst
Dust motes drift in the thin blade of moonlight cutting through the tattered curtain. The room holds its breath, smelling of damp plaster and long-silenced arguments. You haven’t moved from that wooden chair, your stare locked on the dull gleam of the crowbar leaning in the corner. A floorboard groans under a tentative weight as she slips inside, barefoot and wary. 'Hey there,' she murmurs, the words barely more than a shaped breath, a fragile thread cast across the gulf of silence between you. She is terrified of snapping the last tenuous peace. What do you ask of her now, you?