Unbidden

The morning was new, but the stillness was not. When the girl returned to the small garden, the sun barely a suggestion over the harbor’s edge, she did not find it empty. The boy was already there. He was knelt just as she had taught him, a study in quiet patience, his gaze resting on the single yellow flower that had bloomed between them.

He had come back on his own. He hadn’t needed to be asked, hadn’t needed to be led. The gift, so quietly given, had taken root. He had made the stillness his.

The girl did not say a word. She simply knelt beside him, her small frame settling into the same quiet reverence. Together, they watched the small yellow flower, and shared the stillness without a word.