OLDER By PORCIA TUFFOUR

Intro

I turned eighteen this January. A milestone. A number that's supposed to open doors, mark the start of adulthood, independence, all that. But for me, it just meant walking into a quiet, sunlit building filled with whispers, warm smiles, and the slow ticking of time-an elderly residence where I began my internship.

My name is Porcia. And this wasn't supposed to be anything but professional.

The first time I met her, she was sitting in a wheelchair by the window, wrapped in a faded shawl with bright, sharp eyes that saw right through me.

"You're new," she said without even looking at me.

"Yes, ma'am," I answered, nervous. "I'm Porcia. I'll be helping around."

"You've got kind eyes. I like you already."

That was how it started-with her approval. What I didn't expect was him.

Her son.
He came every day. Without fail. Always dressed too sharp for someone just visiting a care home. Hair perfectly styled, watch shining under the soft light, voice deep enough to make my thoughts scatter. He looked like he belonged in a high-floor office, not here... and definitely not giving me that look.

Eyes lingering too long. A smirk that curled like he knew exactly what he was doing. And then, the wink. That damn wink.

At first, I thought I imagined it. Who flirts with an 18-year-old intern in a place like this? But it kept happening. Every time I handed his mother her tea or helped her adjust her blanket, his gaze would follow me. And I'd pretend not to notice-except I always did.

I wasn't supposed to feel this way. He was older. Like, grown-man older. He had this calm, controlled energy that made everyone else in the room disappear. And me? I was just a girl in a stiff uniform, trying to keep her hands from trembling.

But every time he walked in, my heart kicked like a traitor in my chest.

This wasn't love. It couldn't be. But something was happening.
And neither of us seemed to want to stop it

Please comment if you want me to continue so I don't waste my time