He hesitated in the doorway. Not out of fear—73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNrZEY2nMSz
But shame.
I recognized him before he stepped inside.73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMS4yq4wuTj
The slope of his shoulders was heavier now.73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4hag3TIwRo
His eyes searched the tavern like it might accuse him of leaving.
But we keep no clocks here.73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq309OznDag
And the door remembers no judgment.
“I thought it would be gone,” he said.73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8pj44ymnTB
“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.73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh0mmMNwDv0
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.73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOEN0JrL9Us
And I did not answer.73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHp2J13npyT
Some reunions are measured only in presence.
When he finally smiled, it was quiet—like a wound remembering how to heal.
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