He walked through an ancient forest of towering pines. Each step crunched leaves into crispy memories — soundless echoes haunting the hollow spaces between them.
A conversation at the bakery. A scent of cinnamon rolls cut through the air with interruptions as uneven as the jazz notes playing softly in the cafe corner.
Under the winter sun, shadows danced with the remnants of autumn's last leaves. She took a photo, remembering not the sight, but the chill that whispered in her ear.