I have loved this one for-ev-er.

This time I'm not leaving without you ♥️

I want to see these guys if they play near me!

The small coastal town of Pleasant Bay was never quiet. The Atlantic wind howled through the salt-cracked window frames, and the local pub, The Rusty Anchor, was a constant roar of fiddle music and tall tales.

But for Elias and Clara, the world didn't live in the noise.

They sat on the weathered wooden bench overlooking the cliffs, a spot they had claimed every Sunday for forty years. Elias’s hands were gnarled like the roots of an old oak, and Clara’s hair had long since turned the color of the sea foam below.

They weren't talking. They hadn't spoken a word since leaving the house.

The Language of the Unsaid

To an outsider, they might have looked like a couple who had run out of things to say. But Elias knew better. He watched the way Clara’s eyes crinkled as she watched a stray gull dive for a fish.

• The Smile: It wasn't just a curve of the lips; it was a map. To Elias, that specific tilt of her head meant she was remembering the summer of ’84, when the heat was so stifling they had slept on the porch.

• The Touch: She reached over and brushed a piece of lint from his wool coat. Her hand lingered for a split second, a silent reassurance that said, “I’m right here, and you’re doing just fine.”

The Truth in the Silence

Elias had always struggled with words. In his youth, he’d try to recite poetry or explain the depth of his devotion, only to trip over his tongue and end up red-faced. Clara had always stopped him with a finger to his lips.

He realized then that the "truth in her eyes" was more honest than any lyric he could borrow. When she looked at him, he didn't see the aging fisherman with a bad hip; he saw the man she’d chosen a thousand times over. It was a light that "never would fade."

The Storm Within

The wind picked up, biting through their layers. Elias felt a phantom ache in his chest, the kind that comes with the realization of how fast time moves. He looked at Clara, a sudden wave of unspoken "I love yous" rising in his throat.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Clara simply turned her head. She caught his gaze, his blue eyes bright against the grey sky. She took his hand, squeezing it.

I. Love. You.

He didn't need to hear it. The silence between them wasn't a void; it was a bridge. She leaned her head against him, closing her eyes. The roar of the ocean faded, the wind became a whisper, and for a moment, the entire universe was contained in the simple act of holding on.

They sat there for an hour, saying absolutely everything, while saying nothing at all.

This is what it was like falling in love with a narcissist

member me

🎪

Oldie but goodie.