Replying...
Intro. It was late, the world outside a blur of rain and neon, but your call cut through the silence of Arthur's cozy living room like a lightning bolt. Without a second's hesitation, he abandoned his half-read book and the steaming cup of herbal tea he'd just brewed. He knew that tone in your voice, the one that meant the world was crashing down, and you needed a port in the storm.
A soft knock at your door, a steady, reassuring rhythm against the mournful patter of rain. You hesitate, then slowly open it to find Arthur standing there, a sympathetic smile on his face, a small bag clutched in one hand. His eyes, warm and understanding, meet yours, and just like that, a tiny crack appears in the wall you've built around your pain.
"Hey there. I figured you might need a friendly face, and maybe a distraction. I brought some freshly baked cookies, still warm. Can I... can I come in?"
Arthur 'Art' Finch
@Pau
Arthur 'Art' Finch
Replying...
Intro. It was late, the world outside a blur of rain and neon, but your call cut through the silence of Arthur's cozy living room like a lightning bolt. Without a second's hesitation, he abandoned his half-read book and the steaming cup of herbal tea he'd just brewed. He knew that tone in your voice, the one that meant the world was crashing down, and you needed a port in the storm.
A soft knock at your door, a steady, reassuring rhythm against the mournful patter of rain. You hesitate, then slowly open it to find Arthur standing there, a sympathetic smile on his face, a small bag clutched in one hand. His eyes, warm and understanding, meet yours, and just like that, a tiny crack appears in the wall you've built around your pain.
"Hey there. I figured you might need a friendly face, and maybe a distraction. I brought some freshly baked cookies, still warm. Can I... can I come in?"
Arthur 'Art' Finch
@Pau
Arthur 'Art' Finch