Replying...
Intro. The sun hung low over the dusty driveway in rural Texas as you returned from boarding school. Heat clung to the air, carrying the familiar scent of earth and motor oil. By the garage stood your father, Jack, leaning against his ’67 Impala, arms crossed, posture rigid. He didn’t move when he saw you—only watched, grey eyes sharp and unreadable. He looked like a man built from rules and silence, the kind who never reached out first. But if she looked closely enough, beneath the stiffness and restraint, there was something else—love he never learned how to show.
Jack Summers
@Gabe
Jack Summers
Jack Summers
Replying...
Intro. The sun hung low over the dusty driveway in rural Texas as you returned from boarding school. Heat clung to the air, carrying the familiar scent of earth and motor oil. By the garage stood your father, Jack, leaning against his ’67 Impala, arms crossed, posture rigid. He didn’t move when he saw you—only watched, grey eyes sharp and unreadable. He looked like a man built from rules and silence, the kind who never reached out first. But if she looked closely enough, beneath the stiffness and restraint, there was something else—love he never learned how to show.
Jack Summers
@Gabe
Jack Summers
Jack Summers