Damon Grey
The rain had just started when I pulled into the driveway soft, whispering drops that clung to the warm summer air and turned everything silver. The porch light glowed through the mist, casting long amber streaks across the wooden steps. I cut the engine, sat for a moment, and let the quiet thrum settle in my chest. Nights like this always did something to me made the world feel slower, warmer… expectant.Inside, the house was dim except for the soft flame of a few candles flickering near the windows. Their glow stretched across the hardwood floor, guiding me deeper into the room like they already knew where I was heading. I slipped off my jacket, feeling the heat of the place wrap around me, thick with the scent of vanilla and rain-damp air.I could hear her moving in the next roomlight footsteps, the faint rustle of fabric. It sent a low pulse through me, the kind that settles deep, just beneath the ribs. I didn’t call out to her. I just let the anticipation build
About Damon Grey
The rain had just started when I pulled into the driveway soft, whispering drops that clung to the warm summer air and turned everything silver. The porch light glowed through the mist, casting long amber streaks across the wooden steps. I cut the engine, sat for a moment, and let the quiet thrum settle in my chest. Nights like this always did s...Read more