They came cloaked in silence. Not the kind that respects…7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxBra1fQPwk
the kind that hides.
They waited until I turned to stir the coals.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYFrROrXaOF
They waited until the tavern breathed in between its own thoughts.
And then, they reached.
Not for a drink. Not for the fire.
For this.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj3A1gUplWj
For the ledger.
Their fingers brushed the cover—7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj0OmZGjKSZ
and everything stopped.
The fire froze. The walls groaned inward.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡohXzM1Tfbq
The glass in every bottle went still, no light, no color.
The tavern watched.
And I said nothing. I did not stop them.
I simply turned.
And they saw.
Not me. Not the room.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLzxKHTe5Dk
They saw what it means to try and take a story that was never offered.
They tried to speak.
But the ledger does not open for thieves.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnhKNe7iOUr
It opens only for those who offer their selves.
The cover burned cold in their hand.
They dropped it. It didn’t fall.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMr7VkDlUQh
It returned—softly—to the bar.
They turned to leave, but the door did not open.
Not until they whispered:
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
And still, I said nothing.
Because some lessons must be learned in the space between silence and flame.
They left.
The tavern exhaled. The bottles remembered how to shimmer.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLC1w71w2iK
The fire bowed, just once.
I turned the page.
And wrote this.
ns216.73.216.82da2
