I don’t know why I write this.
No one's asked me to. No one's here.48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6CnB5YU0pu
But today… I heard the fire whisper.
Not in words. Just attention.
The tavern is still. The wood hasn’t creaked since the morning.48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOKfxCXM5vA
The bottles have settled into their places like they’ve always been here.
But they haven’t.48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡupBzcWWJ3C
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.48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡohyTnh5h3s
I made it anyway.
Because something told me:
They will.
Someday.
And when they do, I will already be here.
Waiting. Listening.
Writing.
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