The dusk, like a timid maiden in the dark, hesitated to leave that day. The last rays of sunlight lingered on the stone walls, mixing their yellow with crimson. There was a slight humidity in the air, as though it had ominous hints of rain that were yet to arrive.
Under the gently flickering streetlight, a woman stood. Dark blue was her dress-simple in its make-yet funnily enough, it seemed to put her into such elegance even more. Her hair dangled over her shoulders and stuck to her cheeks at intervals because of the wind. She had a worn-out map in her hand but the way she looked at him was that of someone lost not only in the road but also in life.
Footsteps were heard across the street-the rhythm was steady-toward the calm pace. A man stepped from around the corner. His face was without a care, but his eyes looked keenly. And when he beheld her, he hesitated a bit, considering some thing.
"You look lost," he said questioningly.
The woman turned her head. There was a slight distance in her gaze like to a usually cautious person but after a couple of moments, a small faint smile appeared like someone wanting to believe but afraid. "Perhaps I am," she said, almost lost in a wind whispering.
The very real man nodded, unhurriedly but without a deep reading between the signals. Then he assumed, like a character in some old book, “Allow me to accompany the lady.”
In just three seconds, the silence was shattered when he accepted the offer. They walked together, these two creature, along the slippery, cobblestoned path, sometimes not at all; they talked a little; sometimes, they were completely silent. Oddly enough, the silence has a feeling of safety.
Along this old bridge, they crossed over the river dark and, save for a few small ripples sometimes showing under the glare of the lights up above, below was only slightly stirred. Scents of damp earth were borne through the night atmosphere. Somewhere in the distance, the toll of church bells rang softly.
The man asked nothing-no question about her name, or her origin. They were safe, enough to take even a half-step forward in case of a downhill descent.
This was one of their last little walks to their white, waiting house. The woman halted in front of the door. Eyes lightened as if something heavy had been taken off them.
"Thanks."
And that's how it had come to that- a slight smile, a slight bow, and a way on. No long farewells, no promises. And that night, which began as silence and emptiness, left behind just one sentence that somehow must remain.