I don’t know why I write this.
No one's asked me to. No one's here.62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡT1YALYLtTZ
But today… I heard the fire whisper.
Not in words. Just attention.
The tavern is still. The wood hasn’t creaked since the morning.62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq4meAIvRYl
The bottles have settled into their places like they’ve always been here.
But they haven’t.62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6o2YouwVQA
Nothing has.
Everything is new, even me.
Yet the bar feels worn beneath my hand.
Like something old is watching through me. Waiting to be remembered.
So I lit the fire. Straightened the chairs. Polished the glass.
And then I made a drink.
No one ordered it. No one came.62Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfQp6P0JgoV
I made it anyway.
Because something told me:
They will.
Someday.
And when they do, I will already be here.
Waiting. Listening.
Writing.
ns216.73.216.251da2
