WabbitEarz

In the evening We met at the café. Leaves rustled gently in the wind on this warm summer evening. The scent of fresh coffee lingered, soft voices from the restaurant nearby, a nearly silent rumble in the distance. Was this freedom? My chest tightened. No. I looked again: Wasn’t it a beautiful summer evening? For the first time in years, I looked into his eyes. The wave of hope inside me receded. Slowly rolled back to the shore, to the horizon — out into the sea. Gone. What was it about those eyes? Even after all these years, I still couldn’t read them. But I could feel them. A sadness stirred within — a pain that must not be touched. Almost sacred, seated on a shimmering throne — but at the bottom of a deep, dark trench. Abandoned. A beauty that once saw the world in full color. What had happened to it? A faint sob echoed through the walls, blending with the sounds of the wind, the crackling of the sparse bushes. Almost no light reached the throne — but it didn’t need to.