They came cloaked in silence. Not the kind that respects…59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeUwJx2vruC
the kind that hides.
They waited until I turned to stir the coals.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv4TPxycTkS
They waited until the tavern breathed in between its own thoughts.
And then, they reached.
Not for a drink. Not for the fire.
For this.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnVgEshqplA
For the ledger.
Their fingers brushed the cover—59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgmN0Z0kZVk
and everything stopped.
The fire froze. The walls groaned inward.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡakkPttzFF1
The glass in every bottle went still, no light, no color.
The tavern watched.
And I said nothing. I did not stop them.
I simply turned.
And they saw.
Not me. Not the room.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpJiQcXdTsa
They saw what it means to try and take a story that was never offered.
They tried to speak.
But the ledger does not open for thieves.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSkHEBFC4r2
It opens only for those who offer their selves.
The cover burned cold in their hand.
They dropped it. It didn’t fall.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4SD6VPvjIT
It returned—softly—to the bar.
They turned to leave, but the door did not open.
Not until they whispered:
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
And still, I said nothing.
Because some lessons must be learned in the space between silence and flame.
They left.
The tavern exhaled. The bottles remembered how to shimmer.59Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx9yyyyAQw9
The fire bowed, just once.
I turned the page.
And wrote this.
ns216.73.216.139da2
and then Add to home screen.