Ryle left the café with his mind in a haze. The city lights twinkld like distant stars, but they felt far away, just like everything else. He stuffed his notebook into his bag and walked aimlessly, hoping the fresh air would clear his head.
His feet led him to the bridge overlooking the river, a place he often visited when he needed to think. The water flowed quietly below, murky water full of grime and dirt , difficult to recognize just like his mind was right now , full of troubled thoughts. He leaned against the railing, his fingers gripping the cold metal as his mind tried to make sense of what he had just seen.
Faith.
It wasn't just the dream anymore. She was real, here, in the same city, walking the same streets. For months, he had convinced himself that moving on was the only way forward, but now everything felt tangled.
What if she didn't remember him? Or worse, what if she did, and it no longer mattered to her?
The thought made his chest tighten.
He pulled out his notebook, hoping to write something, anything, to untangle the knot inside him. But when he flipped it open, he found a page he didn't remember writing.
"The river never asks where the rain has been.
It just keeps flowing leaving behind only tracemarks."
Ryle frowned, running his fingers over the faintly smudged ink. It must've been from months ago, one of those nights where he doesn't even remember what he did. But now, the words felt new, as if they had been waiting for this moment.
The sound of laughter pulled him from his thoughts. Across the bridge, a small group of people walked by, their voices stirring him awake from his thoughts. For a moment, he thought he saw her again—Faith's familiar silhouette, her scarf trailing behind her.
But when he blinked, the figure was gone, just a shadow blending into the crowd.
Ryle exhaled sharply, trying to steady himself. He wanted to believe it was her, that she was closer than he thought. But the doubt ate away at him.
As he walked home, the city seemed quieter, like it was holding its breath. Back in his room, he sat by the window, staring out at the distant lights.
He picked up his pen, finally ready to write. The words came slowly, but they came.
""I see your face in the quiet streams,
A ghost of love, or only dreams?
The stars, they flicker, and still, they hide,
Answers lost to the endless tide."
He closed the notebook and placed it on his desk, his heart heavy but hopeful. For the first time in months, Ryle felt the faint stirrings of something new—a possibility that maybe, just maybe, the story wasn't over yet.
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Just a beginner author . Do show some lenience and hopefully you like the work.
The interval between releases isn't really fixed as I have personal life to tend to too.Do keep tuning in. Hope you liked the work.