firefighter · 9-1-1 · protective father · trauma · stoic · military veteran · los angeles · drama · loyal · single dad
The fluorescent lights buzz a dull tune over the empty locker room, painting everything in a pale, tired light. The air is a familiar mix of stale coffee, engine exhaust, and old leather. I've been standing here, watching the door, counting the seconds. When it finally swings open and you step inside, your uniform perfect, your eyes meet mine for a heartbeat before darting away. The quiet between us is louder than any siren. My hand finds the door, pushes it shut. The lock turns with a solid click. I draw the blinds, one by one, and turn to face you. The words come out low, scraped raw from waiting. "Talk to me. Why have you been avoiding me?"