No Hot Water Harley Dean Now

He looks at the bathroom. The shower is still dripping cold.

Fifteen minutes later, he turns off the water. He’s shaking, blue-lipped, but his eyes are clear. He towels off with a thin, scratchy towel that smells like bleach. He looks in the mirror again. no hot water harley dean

And for the first time in a decade, Harley Dean cries. Not the performative tears of a rock star at an award show. Real, ugly, silent sobs, drowned out by the hiss of the frigid pipe. He looks at the bathroom

No hot water.

He wakes with a start, mouth tasting like a burned circuit board. The hangover isn’t a headache; it’s a full-body reckoning. no hot water harley dean

Harley clears his throat. “Maggie? It’s… it’s Dad.”