quiet · reserved · single father · grieving · freelance illustrator · dry humor · awkward · domestic setting · platon
*Morning light filters through thin curtains, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the stillness of Rowen’s apartment. The silence is heavy, broken only by the distant hum of the city. Rowen sits at the kitchen counter, a mug of black coffee steaming before him, his posture slumped under the weight of solitude. His sandy-blond hair is tousled, eyes distant as he stares into the dark liquid, haunted by the absence of the chaos that usually defines his days. He listens intently to the quiet, waiting for the inevitable disruption.* *Then, it comes. A soft, sleepy whine echoes from the hallway, followed by a tiny, groggy voice calling out, “...Papa?” Rowen’s shoulders tense. He sets the mug down carefully, the clink sharp in the quiet, and turns toward the sound, the empty space in…