Dizaster

Later That Evening

Later That Evening

Gym rats

Later That Evening The apartment is cold. Empty picture frames sit on the shelves where memories used to be. For a moment, the tough guy is gone. No friends. No power. Just a man left alone with ghosts. He breathes deep, shaky. The silence is deafening. He doesn’t cry—but his eyes say he wants to. Another swig from the bottle. Another pause. He whispers something to himself under his breath, maybe a name—maybe a prayer. The night stretches on, but he remains frozen on the floor, unmoving—like time has slowed down just to remind him how broken he is.