I stood in the doorway of Lio’s room, watching him silently as he poured over the various papers and files that littered his coffee table.
For a man known for how easy going he is, it’s easy to note the tense set of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow, the thin line of his pressed lips and the tiredness in his eyes as he silently stared at the table in front of him.
It isn’t like him to be this tense.
And it’s unlike him even more to show it.
I looked around before entering, happy to see that not much had changed. His room is similar to mine but in warmer colors that match his personality. Beautiful rugs covered the ground and elaborate lamps lit the room in a warm glow that had a faint trace of the sun. A piano is cramped inside with several other instruments littering his otherwise
