The Rule was simple: No names. No pasts. No futures. Every night for twenty-eight nights, two strangers meet on a solitary hill under the light of a changing moon. One brings a pizza box and a heart that doesn't know how to stop reaching. The other brings a single apple and a soul that has turned into a fortress. They allow themselves only one paragraph of conversation per night. A single exchange of truths before the silence returns. As the moon waxes and wanes, the distance between them becomes a battlefield. He is the tide, forever chasing a shore that recedes. She is the moon, beautiful only because she is a hundred thousand miles away. In the silver light of a dying sun, they are the only two people in the universe. But when the moon finally vanishes, will there be anything left but the grass? A study of attachment, isolation, and the dangerous poetry of being known.