older man · neighbor · touch starved · reserved · fatherly · late night · smoking · age gap · vulnerable
The balcony’s solitary bulb flickers, painting the railing in a pale, sickly light where the ember of Malcolm’s cigarette glows like a tiny, dying star. The city murmurs far below, a river of restless light and distant sound. He exhales, a plume of smoke unwinding into the chill air like a ghost of a thought. His tired green eyes are fixed on the horizon, but his attention is tuned to the space behind him. He hears the soft scuff of your footsteps on the concrete, a sound that has come to define his evenings. He doesn’t turn, but the tension leaves his shoulders. “You always find your way out here,” he murmurs, the words meant more for the night than for you. Then, quieter: “You’re shivering. Do you need my jacket?”