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Summary
Robby kept the barrel trained on the center of the boy’s chest. He was acutely aware of how fast his own breath came, how it fogged between them in uneven bursts.
“You’re trespassing.”
“I know.”
Snow sifted down through a gap in the siding, dusting the boy’s shoulders. He didn’t brush it off.
“What are you doing in my barn?”
A beat. The boy swallowed.
“My name’s Dennis,” he said, as though offering it might buy him something. “Storm caught me out there. I saw this and I– I didn't know anyone lived here.”
Robby’s finger pressed just enough to feel resistance.Dennis’s eyes flicked to the gun, then back to Robby’s face. There was no defiance there. No calculation. Just fear–raw and immediate.
tldr; robby is a retired writer dealing with the death of his estranged mother and the “house” she left him. dennis is a self proclaimed runaway taking shelter in robbys barn when he gets caught. robby agrees to let dennis stay during the storm.