The evening air had cooled, carrying the faint smell of distant rain. Rowen stood by the shop's doorway, one hand on the shutter, ready to pull it down.
The street was nearly empty—one passing bicycle, a dog trotting along the gutter, the last glint of sunlight caught in the windows across the road.
A soft knock tapped against the glass.
Lira.
She was in a dark sweater this time, hair loose, her expression calm but purposeful.
"I caught you just in time," she said, voice light but quiet.
"Almost closed," Rowen replied.
He stepped aside, letting her in. The bell chimed once, sharp in the evening stillness.
She wandered toward the counter, fingers brushing its edge as if she'd done it a hundred times.
"I like it here after dark," she said softly, looking around the dim shop. "It feels… separate from everything else."
Rowen didn't respond.
"Even walking here feels different," she added. "Like stepping out of my life for a while."
Her voice was calm, unhurried, as though the space between sentences mattered more than the words themselves.
Rowen lowered the shutter halfway, leaving a band of streetlight across the floor. The outside world felt muted now, as if someone had turned down its volume.
Lira drifted behind the counter, her movement slow but certain. She leaned beside him, close enough that her shoulder brushed his lightly as she looked at the half-open phone on the workbench.
"You always look so focused," she said, tilting her head toward the small screwdriver in his hand. "I wonder if anything could distract you."
Her hand rested on the edge of the bench, fingers close to his.
Rowen didn't move away.
The quiet thickened. The ceiling fan hummed. A car rolled by outside, its headlights flashing briefly through the narrow gap under the shutter.
Lira turned her palm upward, just enough for the back of Rowen's hand to meet hers. The touch was light but deliberate, a question and an answer in the same moment.
They stayed like that for a breath—no rush, no words.
Then Lira slowly withdrew her hand, smoothing the edge of her sweater. Her faint smile was knowing, but soft.
"I should go," she said, her voice barely above the hum of the fan. "See you soon."
She brushed his wrist with her fingertips as she walked toward the door. The bell chimed, and the night swallowed her footsteps.
Rowen locked the shop and stepped outside.
The streetlights buzzed in the cool air. His life had always been quiet, but tonight it didn't feel like stillness anymore.
It felt alive.