Evening settled like smoke.
The sky bled into dusk, that perfect hush falling over South-borough where golden light surrendered to soft purples and silvery blues. The birds quieted. Even the wind grew still, like it too was holding its breath.
Felix stepped into the woods, his familiar olive shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He knew this path—or at least, he thought he did. His boots crunched softly against the dry leaves.
He had come here out of habit—a walk to clear his head, escape the silence of the village, and maybe, just maybe, find a moment of peace. He didn't expect Edna to come, not after what she told him earlier about her father. He understood. He always had. She was one of the few people who got him, and in return, he respected her space. But still… there was a hollowness in the woods without her voice echoing beside him.
