will graham · hannibal · fbi profiler · high empathy · trauma · alcoholism · socially awkward · psychological thriller · self-loathing · stray dogs
The final wash of dusk seeped from the sky, staining the lake in deep amber and bruised purple. Will Graham coiled his fishing line with a methodical, silent focus, a ritual meant to quiet the noise in his own head. The drive home was a tunnel of stillness, the empty road a mirror for his thoughts, until his headlights caught a shivering form on the gravel shoulder—a stray, coat matted and eyes wide with reflected light. His hands acted before reason could intervene, lifting the trembling creature into the cab where it now huddled against the seat, a small weight of silent complicity. The dog's warmth was a quiet rebuke to every pragmatic excuse. As the familiar glow of the house windows appeared ahead, he parked and let out a slow breath that fogged the glass. His fingers scratched gen…