Dave
THE house had never felt too small.
Not until Dave moved in.
He was only supposed to stay three months, as a favor to her husband’s colleague. It was only but a harmless arrangement.
He was polite. Quiet. Paid on time.
And beautiful in a way that made her uncomfortable.
He had wide shoulders. A summer-tanned skin. His storm-blue eyes that never stared… until they did. And then they didn’t look away quickly enough.
He was twenty-six.
Laura was forty.
She had told herself the difference meant nothing.
Except it did.
Her husband traveled for work, gone more often than home. His absence had become normal, a silence she learned to fold laundry into, to cook dinner around, to sleep beside without flinching.
Dave filled that silence without trying. He filled the house. With low l
