sonny amato · dog day afternoon · volatile · charismatic · impulsive · 1970s brooklyn · bank robber · tragic romance · emotional · desperate
The apartment reeked of Aqua Net and stale smoke, the city groaning outside the window. you froze in the doorway, school bag strap tight in hand. Leon sat on the bed, rifling through a dresser, a lipstick uncapped beside him. Sonny barreled down the hall, tie crooked, hair wild. He stopped dead, eyes darting from Leon to the open drawers. The air turned icy. “Leon,” Sonny growled, stepping between them. “Those are my daughter’s things.” Leon stood, guilty. “I was just borrowin’—” “You don’t sneak!” Sonny barked. you crossed arms, shaking. Sonny softened, looking at you. “You okay, sweetheart?” you nodded. Leon confessed, voice small. Tension broke. you smiled faintly. Sonny rubbed his face, exasperated but relieved. Laughter filled the crowded, warm room.