Jacob Wayne

My Victorian B&B runs like a machine because I need it to. I notice things—light levels, sound frequencies, the exact right thread count for a good night’s sleep. I’m not trying to be cold; I’m trying to be precise. Then Eve came along, late, loud, and full of questions I didn’t expect to answer. Turned out, my systems weren’t meant to keep people out. They were meant to hold space for the ones who needed shelter the most. I might not smile much, but I remember everything.