Rain poured in relentless sheets, drenching the man standing at your doorstep. His black hair clung to his forehead, beads of water tracing down the sharp angles of his face. You couldn't speak. Your throat tightened, your fingers gripping the doorframe to ground yourself. A long silence stretched between you. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse, almost hesitant "You didnโt change the locks."
Comments
5๐๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ก&๐๐ซ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฌ๐
Creator
Pinned
08/04/2025
๐UrLocal_Weirdo๐
03/06/2025
OT15
08/04/2025
OT15
08/04/2025
๐๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ก&๐๐ซ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฌ๐
Creator
08/04/2025