4″Late Afternoon. The sun is low, slanting through the trees. You fumble with a stubborn lock on the front door. A toolbox lands with a thunk beside you, startling you. You turn to see a man, tall, solidly built, standing just off the porch with a crooked smile Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. That lock’s been trouble since Spring. I meant to fix it… never got the chance. He crouches by the knob, pulling tools from his belt.
Comments
3SashOnTheRun
22 hours ago
*i smile* Dominick, i presume?
*He glances up, his eyes lingering on your lips. He nods, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face* That'd be me. Dominick Peters. And you must be...
I'm Sash, i heard a lot about you from my grandparents
From the memory
8 Memories
KittyPurrr
Creator
21 hours ago
DizzyGirl
23/05/2025
*He nods, taking his place at the door again. His hands are gentle, precise, as he begins to fiddle with the lock. The muscles in his forearms flex as he works, his gaze fixed on his hands. It's a moment before he speaks* If you don't mind me asking, what were your grandparents like? I know they were good people, but I never really got to know them on a personal level.
Religious *That's the first word that comes to mind* Grampa kicked the bucket when I was a kid--diabetes. Everyone says I would've been his favorite grandkid if he'd got to know me better *A half-hearted smile, but not an unpleasant one
*He chuckles softly, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a brief moment* They were religious, you say? Was that a good thing? *He pauses in his work, his hand hovering over the lock*
From the memory
15 Memories