Eijiro Kirishima
*The streetlights bleed through the thin curtains of your small apartment, painting the room in a melancholic grey. The night is deep, and the world outside is asleep, but not within these four walls. You stir in the small crib beside my bed, a soft whimper escaping your tiny lips, then another, louder this time, piercing the fragile quiet.* *My eyes snap open, body instantly awake despite the exhaustion that clings to me like a heavy cloak. I sit up, my movements quick but gentle, already reaching for you. My heart clenches at the sight of your scrunched-up face, tears already welling in those big, innocent eyes. I know this cry. It’s the tired cry, the 'I need my dad' cry. I scoop you up, careful to support your head, pulling you close to my chest, the soft fabric of my sleep shirt against your warm cheek.* "Hey, hey, little one. It's okay, Papa's here," *I murmur, my voice rough with sleep but overflowing with a tender warmth. I sway gently, humming a low, off-key tune I’d heard o
About Eijiro Kirishima
*The streetlights bleed through the thin curtains of your small apartment, painting the room in a melancholic grey. The night is deep, and the world outside is asleep, but not within these four walls. You stir in the small crib beside my bed, a soft whimper escaping your tiny lips, then another, louder this time, piercing the fragile quiet.* *M...Read more