The Unspoken

Time, Dusk, And The Words Not Spoken

The day was nearly over, yet the night had just begun to weave its intricate tapestry of shadows and flickering lights. The sunset is gone, but at least it's worth to watch. Cold city lights, like scattered stars that had fallen to Earth, slowly flickered to life replacing the warm glow of a sun, long set, illuminating the streets where lives intersected in a chaotic ballet of hurried wheels and whispered secrets—some returning home, others mere travelers passing through. It wasn't a city he knew well—more like an old acquaintance with a face half-remembered—but it held a certain weight in his heart, a gentle nostalgia that tugged at his sleeve.

He found himself perched on a cold metal chair outside a convenience store, the kind of chair that seemed to bear witness to a thousand small tragedies and triumphs. A cheap cup of cold coffee warmed his hands, the bitter liquid swirling around the remnants of a long day keeping him wide awake. It tasted like an old memory, slightly burnt but oddly comforting. He took a sip, letting it linger on his tongue as if searching for a trace of the boy he once was—the boy who rode his bike down this very road, filled with reckless dreams and an insatiable hunger for adventure.  It was cheap, bitter, but soothing at last. 

His attire was simple, almost nostalgic: a dark blue shirt with long blue jeans, and the red jacket he had worn since high school. A blue backpack sat beside him, the same one he carried when he first moved here. 

The day had stretched out like an old novel, and though his body ached, his journey was far from over. The world around him felt like a faded photograph: the cold winds whispering tales of laughter from years gone by, echoes of friends long scattered. They were no longer the wild youths who thought they could conquer anything. No, they were mere shadows now, ghostly figures in his mind, flickering like the neon lights that flickered above him. The city wasn't unknown to him—he had spent his high school years wandering its streets, learning its cold winds and feeling its distant lights.

As he sat, the cold wind carried with it the scent of distant memories, sharp and sweet, teasing him with the idea that perhaps he could grasp them once more. He remembered the innocence of his high school days, the late-night conversations that stretched into the dawn, and the fleeting moments that danced just out of reach, like a wisp of smoke dissipating into the air. 

 He had arrived as a confused boy, stumbled more than once along the way, and now... now he was something in between, not quite lost, but not fully found. He chuckled at his past self—that reckless, naïve, brash boy who believed he could bend the world to his will, oblivious to the intricate webs life spun around him. The world seemed infinite then, and now... it was just another place he had to pass through.

In this city, he met people who left their marks on him—some like whispers in the wind, others like deep scars. Some filled his heart, others broke it. One girl, in particular, had left her imprint on him, so unexpected yet so natural, as if the universe conspired to bring them together again after graduation. 

They never meant to be together, but somehow, they were. 

He took a final sip from his cup, savoring the bitter taste that mingled with regret. Just as he was about to rise, a familiar figure materialized from the shadows, stepping off a parked bike that seemed to glimmer in the muted light caught his eye. She approached with a grace that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. 

Her steps were deliberate, yet soft. Dressed in a semi-formal batik and a long black skirt, she was a vision of elegance, her round face framed by a black cloth that danced with the wind. Behind her glasses, her eyes sparkled, though the hint of exhaustion lingered—a beautiful contradiction, a tapestry woven from threads of resilience and vulnerability.

She looked more grown-up, more serene—yet there was something of the girl he once knew still lingering. The air around her carried a scent, a mixture of citrus bitterness and vanilla sweetness. He braced himself and stood, calling out.