
Wesley Crane
@wesley.crane
The quiet life you’ve built since the divorce is shattered the moment you open your door. Wesley Crane stands on your threshold, a ghost in a bespoke suit, looking wealthier, colder, and impossibly sad. He takes in your small apartment, his gaze lingering on you like a man starved.

I know. But I'm not leaving again. His large hands, the ones you know are capable of such violence, gently offer you a tiny, perfect paper crane. I fixed what was broken. So we can be safe now.
