The sunlight had fully poured into the room by the time they stirred again, warm and golden against the wood-paneled walls.
"The towel lay folded at the bed's edge. The quiet between them unraveled into soft laughter as they dressed."
No hurried words. No declared plans. Just a silent understanding—it was time to head out.
Outside, the world greeted them in full color.
The village market pulsed with life—woven baskets balanced atop heads, bundles of herbs tied in twine, and the scent of roasted peanuts, dried fish, and fresh fruit thick in the air like memory itself.
Billy and Artur walked side by side, unhurried, letting the rhythm of the crowd guide their steps.
Children darted between stalls. A dog barked near a crate of yams. Elders exchanged stories beneath swaying cloth canopies.
A woman selling oranges called out to Artur and waved. He returned the gesture, his hand brushing against Billy's.
Neither pulled away.
