I don’t know why I write this.
No one's asked me to. No one's here.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7Rc5uNnpo6
But today… I heard the fire whisper.
Not in words. Just attention.
The tavern is still. The wood hasn’t creaked since the morning.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmPagv6mvz2
The bottles have settled into their places like they’ve always been here.
But they haven’t.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIToH2Ia3Ct
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.12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc3HjAB4jLU
I made it anyway.
Because something told me:
They will.
Someday.
And when they do, I will already be here.
Waiting. Listening.
Writing.
ns216.73.216.8da2
