Pemberely 8oz Candle

He passes close; closer than is strictly necessary.

Your hands nearly touch.

It is nothing.

And yet not nothing at all.

There is something in that brief moment… something carried in the air between you. Clean and composed, with a warmth that does not announce itself, but lingers nonetheless. It is gone almost as soon as it is noticed, leaving you uncertain whether it was ever truly there at all.

He does not look back.

It is, you think, entirely like him.

So much is felt, and yet so little is said. One might almost believe him indifferent, were it not for those rare moments, so easily dismissed, when his composure falters, and something far more earnest threatens to reveal itself.

It is exceedingly provoking.

For what is one to make of such a man?

One who feels deeply, and yet will not speak of it.

Who offers nothing plainly, and yet leaves no room for doubt.

You would think yourself mistaken if only you did not feel it so strongly.