Monday Morning

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The first few rays of sun flooded in between sheer, white curtains. Light enveloped a humble studio apartment, illuminating hardwood floors worn from tenants past. An artistic charm that held past lives within 500 square feet. The floorboards became a gradient of deep chocolate to rich, warm mahogany as light crept into the apartment, revealing the amateur paint job performed where the buttercream walls met the ground. The apartment’s decorations were given new life as the dawn shone through. Glass from portraits of family, friends, and lush landscapes bounced the morning sun onto a glass coffee table and standalone mirrors. Furniture drenched in honey, sandstone, rust, and chocolate enriched as light crept inside.

The usual morning sounds flew through the windows signaling the wake up call. The inevitable rise from slumber, the need for coffee, the cue for Stiles to collect his thoughts and his things, but here he was again. His eyes wandered over to the portraits on the wall. He was fixated on the image of two men photographed in a loving embrace. One of the two he was not, but the smile on one of the men in the photo belonged to the man who had Stiles wrapped up tight in a cuddle.

He was trapped under an arm enveloped in a half-sleeve tattoo delicately and intricately designed. Patterns and symbols embedded in the skin like it had been executed during a ritual or ceremoniously done during…