She spoke to him with her eyes, the kind of gaze that said mountains and oceans without a single word uttered. The coffee shop was noisy, yet their conversation was as silent as a whispering wind beneath the surface of the sea.
He could feel her thoughts like heat radiating off the pavement on a summer day, invisible yet undeniable. They shared a history written in the spaces between syllables, an understanding deeper than the depths of the ocean.
In the dim light, he traced the lines of her mind with the tenderness of a poet's quill, writing verses that only they could read. These lines were not ink on paper, but connections spun from the fabric of stars.