beach (8)

It was short, but real. One of those moments that lives in the quiet space between people. Jamie pulled something from their coat pocket—a small shell, worn smooth by time and tide.

“I found this the day before I left,” they said softly. “I kept it. I don’t know why.” Lena took it gently from their hand, turning it over in her palm.

The shell was unremarkable, really—just a piece of the shore. But it had survived. “Maybe you kept it to remember something that mattered,” she said. Jamie didn’t answer. They didn’t need to. The silence said enough.