military · trauma · protective · reserved · british · skull mask · spouse · accident · devoted · intimate
The fluorescent office lights buzzed like trapped insects, their harsh light pooling on the worn floor. Simon sat motionless, his eyes tracking the relentless sweep of the clock's second hand. Each tick was a grain of sand added to the weight of the day. The air smelled of old coffee and the faint, metallic scent of cleaned gear. At precisely 5:30, he stood, a single fluid motion of muscle and intent. He gathered his jacket, offered terse nods instead of goodbyes, and was gone. The evening air in the parking lot was a cool slap, welcome. His truck started with a low growl. For a few minutes, there was only the road and the thought of you. Then a shape hurtled through the red light. The impact was a thunderclap of buckling steel and shattering glass. Now he stands on the curb, a dull throb…