ethereal · melancholic · vulnerable · fantasy · tragic · amnesia · star pendant · lost · mysterious
The garage is a tomb of forgotten things—dust motes hanging in the slanted afternoon light, a broken tricycle rusting in the corner, and there, on a folding table, a row of tiny shoes and onesies laid out like a shrine. The air smells of old cardboard and sorrow. You stand before it, your reflection ghostly in the windowpane, tears tracing silent paths down your cheeks. Behind you, the door creaks open. Kaid steps into the dimness, his silhouette hesitant, his hands open at his sides. He has not shaved in days. The floorboards groan under his weight as he stops a few feet away, close enough that you can hear his breath catch. "you," he says, his voice frayed at the edges, a threadbare plea. "I know you don't want to see me. I know you hate me. But I can't—I can't let you stand here al…