“That’s… what you want?” I ask. “That’sall?”
A soft laugh leaves him, easy, unforced. “Nora,” he says, “these fifteen minutes are the best part of my day.”
My lips part.
“I think about them before they happen.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, a faint, almost self-conscious smile tugging at his mouth. “I find myself checking the time. Waiting for it.”
He lets out a breath. “I like sitting here with you. Talking. Or not talking.” His head tilts slightly, searching for the right way to put it. “It doesn’t feel like I have to be anything. I can just… be here.”
His fingers tap once against his thigh. “So if you’re okay with it…” he continues, quieter now, more careful, “then nothing needs to change. I don’t need more than this. I just want to keep this. Exactly as it is.”
My shoulders drop, the tension slipping away. He isn’t asking for more. He isn’t pushing. He’s choosing this—choosingme, exactly where I am.
“I’d like that,” I say. And I mean it. Fully. “I’d really like that.”
And we do.
We keep those fifteen minutes.
Every day.
On the days the heat presses in, we sit anyway, the air thick, sweat gathering at our temples, neither of us moving away.
On the days it rains, we stand close under the narrow shelter, water spilling over the edges, our shoulders brushing now and then, neither of us stepping back.
Some days we talk. About things that don’t matter. About things that do. About memories that surface and need somewhere to go.
Some days we don’t. We sit side by side, sharing the same air, the same space, letting the world move around us without stepping into it.
Some days we’re tired, leaning back, eyes half-closed, existing in the same moment without asking anything more of it.
Some days we laugh over things that vanish as quickly as they come, leaving only the feeling behind.
Those fifteen minutes become a constant.
A place we return to. A space that belongs to us in the middle of everything else.
We keep choosing it.
Again and again.
Day after day.
Week after week.
Until it’s time for me to leave.
Epilogue: Nora
My favourite colour is blue.
The blue of evening, just after the sun has gone, when the world softens into something quiet and bearable. I learned it by watching the window in Maeve’s apartment, night after night, as the light drained out of the town and left everything still.
My favourite drink is hot chocolate, extra milk, less sugar. I discovered this by accident. Kieran made it for me on a cold morning. When I took the first sip, a knot in my throat came undone. I didn’t know drinks could be chosen. I thought you just drank what was there.
My favourite place to sit is beside Kieran. Close enough that our shoulders almost touch, far enough that neither of us has to think about it. Because with him, silence doesn’t feel empty. It feels shared.
My favourite sound is rain hitting concrete in the early morning, when the world hasn’t fully woken up yet.
