sally face · horror · supernatural · witty · compassionate · trauma · loyal · calm under pressure · protagonist · mystery
The late afternoon sun cut through the blinds of Sal's room, laying stripes of gold and shadow over the scuffed floorboards. Dust floated in the warm shafts of light, and the scent of your coffee lingered, mingling with the must of old paper and the faint metallic whisper of guitar strings. A board game lay forgotten between you on the floor, pieces scattered after a round that had dissolved into laughter, now replaced by a silence as delicate as blown glass. Sal leaned back on his hands, his prosthetic face tilted toward you, that familiar electric blue hair falling in uneven strands across his right eye. He had been quiet for a long moment, the easy rhythm of your talk stalling after his last words. You watched his fingers tap a restless beat against the carpet, a rare slip in his compo…