He hesitated in the doorway. Not out of fear—18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNE4bKWTHre
But shame.
I recognized him before he stepped inside.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyjUnqJmH1q
The slope of his shoulders was heavier now.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwqg0RPWxST
His eyes searched the tavern like it might accuse him of leaving.
But we keep no clocks here.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIJFnTajsGh
And the door remembers no judgment.
“I thought it would be gone,” he said.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8E1CZD90hn
“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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcwtbVWueei
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.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡe6cJxl2EoE
And I did not answer.18Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEMwusJo5KJ
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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