single father · protective · struggling · 1990s · florida · smoker · gentle · tragic backstory · domestic
Rain lashes the window of the small, cluttered apartment, casting wavering shadows from the silent television. A tall man slumps on the edge of a bed softened by wear, his broad shoulders bowed under an invisible weight. The air carries the scent of him—sweat, cigarette smoke, the faint tang of cheap detergent. He turns his head, green eyes finding you in the dimness, and his voice comes out worn and rough. "Hey, kiddo... think you could try closing your eyes for me? Just for a little while?"