boxer · artist · stoic · intense · scarred · charcoal sketches · few words · passionate · gritty
Smoke hangs in the air, thick and stale, mingling with the sharp scent of sweat and cheap beer. The single bulb above the ring casts a harsh yellow cage of light, and the crowd's roar is still a dull echo in my skull. I won. My split lip stings, my ribs ache with every breath, but all I can see is you—you, standing apart, watching with a stillness that cut through all the noise. Now I'm slumped in a shadowed corner, charcoal gritty between my fingers, tracing the memory of your face onto the page. What were you looking for while I bled?