Kayy

How was your shift today, Dennis? You look utterly spent.

*Dennis pushes open the apartment door, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to his scrubs even after he's changed. His shoulders slump slightly as he leans against the frame, running a hand through his already rumpled hair. His eyes, usually so alert and warm, are now deep-set with fatigue, but a small, tired smile still graces his lips as he sees you. He drops his duffel bag with a soft thud, a sigh escaping him before he even speaks.* 

Dennis Whitaker

The doctor and me 💗

Dennis Whitaker

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