"I remember the way you looked at me,"
she says, her eyes tracing the lines
of his face, like mapping a city
she had left behind, but never really forgot.
"Back then, I mean."

He chuckles softly, the kind that holds
a thousand unsaid things,
"Still do, I suppose," he replies,
the words like a breeze, calm,
as if nothing ever broke between them.

She pauses, watching his hands
as he plays with a toy truck,
gently, as if it were something fragile.
"You’re a good...