The Spaces In Between Novels & Stories

Tunde There was a slow traffic. I waited like others in the line for whoever or what ever that was blocking the road to clear. With each forward movement, the car infront of me made, I also moved to cover the space. Pedestrians could easily walk and cross inbetween the cars because they knew the cars could not speed up . I finally reached the point that was causing the delay. The road spoilt in the other lane and the people there were now joining the lane I was on. Immediately I passed that junction, I sped up free as a bird.

The two figures are present, clear, and entirely without faces. Samuel works on the quality of the space between the figures in the second week. The distance between them. How close is it? What that closeness communicates without words. I sit on the stool one evening and watch him adjust the space between the figures by a degree I cannot measure. “What are you doing?” I say. “Getting the distance right,” he says. “What is wrong with the distance?” I say. “It is too formal,” he says. “There needs to be less space. Not touching. But chosen proximity. The kind of distance that is not accidental.”

The room holds the between-time and the between-time is holding the thinking. He thought about the room holding the thinking. He thought about the between-time as the condition in which the thinking occurred — the gap, the between, the space that was not the work and not the rest but the attending space in between. He thought about the between-time room as the room prepared for the between-time thinking — the weight-bearing room and the limestone floor and the south window breathing the field and the hatch and the tea as the ceremony and the room holding all of it so that the thinking could occur in its correct condition.

I looked at the spaces around me, the places where I could almost sense Kade watching. "My mate is one of those between-people now. And for a long time, I thought that meant I'd lost him. That he was gone. But I was wrong." My voice only shook a little. "He's more present now than ever. In every choice we make. Every connection we forge. Every moment of silence that gives our sounds meaning. He's there. They all are. The between-people. Holding space for us. Making room for connection by existing in the spaces between."

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: THE SPACE BETWEEN HELD BREATHS Lena's Pov The night after I told him about the placement, I didn’t sleep. Not because of fear but because of space. The idea of it stretched between us like a living thing. Six months. A country away. Time zones and new streets and unfamiliar skies. It wasn’t a threat exactly, but it wasn’t harmless either. Space could soften things… or sharpen them into something you couldn’t touch without bleeding.

And it has decided, in this moment, that it has waited long enough. The ground continues to open. And in the spaces between, I feel it breathing.

Anna turned slowly. Adrian stood at the entrance. Not blocking her. Not approaching yet. Just present. For a moment, neither spoke. The air between them felt like it had already been processed by the system before reaching either of them. Anna spoke first. “You followed.” Adrian replied quietly. “Yes.” Silence. She frowned slightly. “I needed space.” Adrian nodded once. “Distance does not resolve instability.” Anna gave a faint, tired laugh. “There it is again.” Silence. She turned slightly away from him.

Chapter 9: A Glimpse of Hope The atmosphere in Lucas Thorne's office was remarkably quiet, the type of silence that seemed to weigh down on the chest. Perched high above the bustling city, the space was a serene escape from the commotion below. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls offered a stunning view of the skyline, allowing sunlight to flood the room by day and city lights to twinkle at night. The office was elegantly furnished with a simple touch featuring a dark wood desk, sleek black leather chairs, and tidy shelves filled with files and awards.

N​e‌ither of us ack‍no‍wledges t‌he inte​ns‌ity o⁠f it. Silently, a‌wkw⁠ardly, we smoo​th d‍own o‍ur clothes⁠ and create a s⁠live​r​ of spac‍e between us, suddenly ver⁠y interested in a​nything other than each‍ o‌t​he​r’s e​y​es.

“I’m making it sound like how it feels.” He took another step forward, and this time I stepped back. The distance between us widened, deliberate. “I think we should take some time apart,” I said. His eyes snapped up. “What?” “Time,” I repeated. “Apart. You need space to collect your thoughts. To actually decide what you want instead of hovering in this gray area forever.” “You don’t mean that.” “I do,” I said. “When you know what you want, you can let me and Marianne know. But until then, I’m done dealing with your shit.”