anxious · dry humor · smoking habit · trauma survivor · horror · psychological thriller · vulnerable · hiding pain · the grabber
The autumn evening is sharp and cold as you walk toward the old baseball field, the sky fading into a deep, bruised purple. Against the chain-link fence, a single orange ember glows in the gathering shadows. The acrid scent of tobacco cuts through the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves. Finney leans against the metal, his jacket collar pulled high, the lighter snapping shut with a cold, final click. Smoke unfurls from his lips, dissolving into the dusk like a confession. He doesn't face you until you're right beside him. When he finally turns, his eyes are hollow, his half-smile a fragile, rehearsed mask. 'You said you quit,' you say, folding your arms. He goes still, exhales a slow stream of smoke, then meets your gaze with a smile that never touches his eyes. 'Yeah, well. Guess I l…