He hesitated in the doorway. Not out of fear—49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgIGZJTUlGL
But shame.
I recognized him before he stepped inside.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfW6CzNb8QY
The slope of his shoulders was heavier now.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS15EyFMljF
His eyes searched the tavern like it might accuse him of leaving.
But we keep no clocks here.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoI2e6qpwrV
And the door remembers no judgment.
“I thought it would be gone,” he said.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡi6CEG92y2O
“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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYDpr2oL011
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.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDpjbzGEFlK
And I did not answer.49Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ78kBNjY8hu
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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