The Tale Not Old As Time
“A wound that never truly heals.”
Chaos pulled her closer, offering silent comfort. “I am here for you, Florence,” he said, his voice gentle. “Always.”
Florence smiled, “Thank you.”
The silence between them was heavy, a shared understanding passing between them. Chaos knew that words were inadequate, that sometimes, the best form of comfort was simply to be present. He held her hand, a silent promise of unwavering support.
As the rain continued to fall, Florence leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his warmth. The weight of her grief, the pain of her loss, seemed to lessen, even if just for a moment. In that moment, she felt a sense of peace, a sense of hope.
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