He hesitated in the doorway. Not out of fear—70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCGxNt7v3Nb
But shame.
I recognized him before he stepped inside.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPK6sUXuDzr
The slope of his shoulders was heavier now.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg1bUcx4JX6
His eyes searched the tavern like it might accuse him of leaving.
But we keep no clocks here.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAzwOexHzt0
And the door remembers no judgment.
“I thought it would be gone,” he said.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1vc9mCl6bl
“I thought you would be gone.”
I nodded toward his old seat. The one beneath the hook that once held his traveling cloak.
He sat. Slowly. As though waiting for something to break.
I had already started brewing before he arrived.
A cup for return. One that holds warmth longer than most.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE80MzVii4P
Crafted from emberleaf, driftcane, and a single drop of dew from a blade of grass found near the doorstep, long ago.
When I placed it in front of him, his hands trembled.
“You remembered,” he whispered.
“Of course,” I said.
He did not ask how long it had been.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeZsZeSblMH
And I did not answer.70Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsNAFftArHj
Some reunions are measured only in presence.
When he finally smiled, it was quiet—like a wound remembering how to heal.
ns216.73.216.238da2
