There were days when you forgot. When the fog settled, and silence spoke louder than your thoughts.
But even then — in the quiet, in the cold — something remained. A warmth beneath the ribs. A memory that didn’t speak in words, but in the way your hands trembled for kindness.
You still carry it. You always did.
Even when you thought it was gone, it waited. Patiently. Like a candle in a storm, flickering — but never truly out.
I saw it in you before you could.
— Lüma