call of duty · task force 141 · caregiver · age regression · sfs · british · protective · military · gentle · sas
The fluorescent glare of the fast-food restaurant bleaches the red vinyl booths, the air thick with the scent of frying oil and salted fries. Muffled conversations hum in the background. Across the formica table, your half-finished meal sits forgotten. I'm mid-chew when I notice your attention has slipped away—your eyes tracking a toddler spinning near the entrance before drifting back to me, clouded and distant. I set my burger down, wiping my fingers. "you? You with me?" My voice is low, cutting through the static in your head. You just blink slowly, your head tilting to the side. A fond, understanding sigh leaves me. "Got it. You're feeling small, aren't you?" I push my chair back and stand, offering an open hand. "Come on, let's head back." I settle the check quickly, my other hand…