I Like Your Quiet
495 Words
The rhythm of her life in the small town was a gentle tide. It was a comfort. It was a routine.
One afternoon, a man came into the bookstore. He was tall. He was loud. His name was Paul. He was a fisherman. He knew Rowan. They had a brief, boisterous conversation. Paul left.
Rowan looked at her. He saw the tension in her body. She had flinched when Paul spoke. His voice was a reminder of her old life. Her ex-boyfriend was a loud man. He was a demanding man.
Rowan did not say anything. He just went to the back. He came back with two mugs of coffee. He handed her one.
“He’s a good guy. He’s just a little much.”
It was a quiet apology. It was a small acknowledgment. It was a testament to his careful observation. He saw everything. He saw the subtle shifts in her body. He saw the quiet battles she fought inside herself.
He was a quiet man. He was also a good man.
She sat with him. The coffee was warm. The silence was a balm.
She finally spoke.
“My old life was loud,” she said.
It was a huge thing to say. She had not planned to say it. The words just came out. They were a confession.
He nodded.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “I’ve always been quiet. I’ve always been a person who listens more than he talks.”
He looked at her. His gaze was direct.
“I like your quiet.”
The words were a hammer. They hit her with a sudden, beautiful force.
He did not just tolerate her quiet. He liked it. He liked her. It was a simple, profound truth. It was a truth she had not heard in a very long time.
Her old life had demanded she be a certain way. She had to be loud. She had to be social. She had to be the person they wanted her to be.
Here, she could just be Sloane. She could be the quiet woman who drank coffee in a bookstore. She could be the woman who loved the sea. She could just be herself.
She felt the tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back. She was not a crier. She was not a person who showed her feelings. But with him, the wall was starting to crumble.
It was not a sudden collapse. It was a slow, gentle erosion.
He was not prying. He was just a quiet man. He was a quiet man who saw her. He was a quiet man who liked her.
The simple truth of it was almost too much to bear.
She took a deep breath. She finished her coffee. She gave him a small, genuine smile.
It was the first one he had ever seen.
He smiled back.
It was a silent conversation.
It was everything.
- Writer
