Some things are left untouched . . . not because they were forgotten, but because there is still something being waited for.
In a house that remains unchanged, there is a cup in the kitchen, a pair of shoes by the door, and a chair that never loses its place. Everything stays where it was last used, as if it might still be returned to.
But as the days pass, waiting slowly begins to turn into a question.
Waiting, Still is a story about staying . . . in a place, in memory, and in a promise that no longer knows when, or if, it will be kept.