The week slid by without interruption.
Rowen's days unfolded like always—tea cooling on the table, tools lined up by habit, the small bell above the shop door chiming for brief, forgettable transactions.
But the rhythm wasn't quite the same.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had started marking time differently. There were moments he caught himself listening for the soft creak of the door, expecting the pause in footsteps that usually came before she stepped in.
It didn't come.
By the fifth evening, he was wiping the counter, ready to pull the shutters down, when he noticed a shadow on the glass.
The bell chimed.
Lira stepped in, a faint flush in her cheeks from the night air.
"I was just walking," she said, slightly out of breath. "Saw the lights still on."
Rowen didn't answer right away. He set the cloth down and nodded once.
She leaned against the counter, hands folded loosely. "I like it here at night. It's quiet. Feels… separate from everything else."
He didn't disagree.
She let the silence settle for a while before speaking again. "Do you ever leave this town? Or are you one of those people who actually belongs where they are?"
"I go where I need to," Rowen said.
"Hm." She tapped the edge of the counter lightly with her fingers, as if thinking. "Sometimes I miss the days when life wasn't so… arranged."
Her eyes moved slowly across the shelves, then toward the small device in his hand—a portable music player he'd been testing before she entered.
"Still works?" she asked.
He turned the screen toward her. She leaned closer, shoulder brushing his lightly as she glanced down. Neither of them moved away immediately.
For a moment, the quiet in the shop changed shape. It was no longer neutral. It was leaning toward something neither of them said aloud.
Then Lira stepped back, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Well… see you around, Rowen."
"Yeah."
The bell chimed as she left, the sound carrying into the street before the night swallowed it.
Rowen stood for a moment longer, looking at the space where she had been.
When he finally pulled the shutters down, the silence didn't feel like the kind he had always known.
It felt like it was leaning toward something.