We talk for what feels like hours, the conversation weaving through our shared history, our separate lives.
There are moments of clarity, flashes of understanding.
Each revelation is a small step forward, a piece of the puzzle falling into place.
“I didn’t know,” I confess at one point, the admission freeing.
She nods, acknowledging the truth between us.
“Neither did I,” she replies, a mirror of my own thoughts.
The morning light shifts, casting patterns across the room.
Time passes, marked by the slow journey of the sun.
Eventually, we reach a point of pause, an understanding, if not resolution.
“Let’s take a break,” she suggests, her voice lighter now.
