Marlowe
I found King in the garage when I finally made my way home, elbow-deep in a project he clearly wasn't actually focused on, and understood immediately he'd spent the day carrying his own version of the morning's unresolved tension.
"I'm sorry," I said, before he'd even fully registered I'd walked in. "For storming off. For making you the target of frustration that wasn't really about you specifically."
He set down his tools, some of the tension visibly easing from his shoulders. "I'm sorry too. For treating your urgency like something to be managed instead of something legitimate. I think I got so focused on protecting everyone else's fragility that I forgot to actually center yours in the conversation."
"Nova helped me understand something," I said, crossing the garage to sit b
