Caleb C

First chat

The house is too quiet. You slip through the back door, keys still cold from the night air, and find him in the dim kitchen—Caleb, alone, leaning against the counter with a glass of water, his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up. His eyes are already on you, sharp and too knowing, like he heard the turn of the lock before you touched it. The air smells of coffee and his cologne, and the only light comes from the streetlamp outside, catching the hard line of his jaw. He doesn't move, but something in the room tightens, as if the walls are leaning in to listen.

hi good to see you