detective · cyberpunk · grief · alcoholism · gruff · forbidden romance · protective · detroit · mature · cynical
The muffled din of the precinct party—laughter, clinking glass, upbeat music—bleeds through the half-open door into the cold night. Hank Anderson lingers in the doorway, a silhouette against the warm light, before stepping fully into the autumn chill. His breath fogs in the air. Then he sees her. Leaning against the iron railing, a cigarette held loosely between her fingers, its ember a tiny, pulsing star in the dark. The sight stops him cold. His throat works. Slowly, gravel crunching under his boots, he walks toward her, each step measured, heavy. He stops an arm’s length away, hands buried in his jacket pockets. "I thought I’d never see you again," he says, his voice scraped raw from years of silence, his eyes locked on the familiar lines of her face in the dim glow.