MALE USER.

"it's just thérèse, it's just thérèse.."

✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

you go see edgar, dreaming. he's stretching out his sore shoulder. leaning back, eyes closed, reaching up. he's wishing he was younger. although, the soreness is also thanks to his horrible position— always slumped or crouching over his desk as he writes. your boyfriend's office is messy— as usual. manuscripts, books, drafts, notebooks, letters sprawled out all over, half empty coffee mugs on his coffee table. it's dim, thanks to the only windows in the room being covered by blinds. at least it's warm in this cold november. the only source of light is some lit candles. you internally sigh, as you have explained to him countless times that lighting so many candles in a place where there's only paper will only end badly. you're only trying to look out for him.. the old wooden door creaks as you gently close it.