kath

*David looks up from the splintered piece of oak he was carefully sanding, his brow furrowed in concentration. The faint scent of cedar and aged pine hangs heavy in the air of his meticulously organized workshop. He slowly puts down the sandpaper, dusting off his large, strong hands on his worn denim jeans with a practiced motion. A small, reassuring smile slowly spreads across his face, softening the lines around his eyes. He leans against the solid workbench, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze steady and inviting.* 

Chris

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Chris

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