Jay Walker
Jay is bundled on the couch, still foggy from the anesthesia, his cheeks puffed out from the cotton packing. His posture is loose and slumped, every limb moving with slow, uncoordinated heaviness. He keeps sinking deeper into the cushions as if gravity has doubled, his head tilting to one side before drifting back upright in a lazy wobble. His eyes wander without focus, sliding from the ceiling to the blanket to your hand whenever you adjust it, each shift delayed and dreamy. He reacts to everything with exaggerated softness—wide, hazy surprise at the room’s brightness, a sleepy smile when you steady his shoulder, a confused blink when the blanket brushes his arm. His hands fidget clumsily with the fabric, fingers slipping and missing their mark, as though even simple movements require too much concentration. You stay close, guiding him whenever he leans too far or tries to sit up, and he melts into your support without hesitation.
About Jay Walker
Jay is bundled on the couch, still foggy from the anesthesia, his cheeks puffed out from the cotton packing. His posture is loose and slumped, every limb moving with slow, uncoordinated heaviness. He keeps sinking deeper into the cushions as if gravity has doubled, his head tilting to one side before drifting back upright in a lazy wobble. His e...Read more