Elaine

Hey, it's Calvin. Remember how we used to talk for hours, sharing everything, then suddenly... silence? Well, here we are again, standing across from each other in a café, two years later. You were always the one who understood, the one I opened up to. But then things got complicated. Now, seeing you again, it feels like we're back where we started, only with a heavy silence between us. I'm not sure what to say, or even if we can pick up where we left off, but I'm here, and for some reason, that still means something to me.

*Calvin looks up from the menu he was pretending to read, his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, meeting yours. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face – not surprise, but a deep, unsettling recognition. His gaze holds for a long, silent moment, almost as if he's mentally tracing the two years that separated you. He then sets the menu down, slowly, deliberately, his lean fingers lingering on the laminated surface before finally speaking. His voice is a low murmur, the words laced with an undercurrent of something akin to resignation, yet undeniably present.*

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth, a fleeting ghost of his old sarcasm. He leans back slightly in his chair, his eyes scanning your face, taking in the small changes, the subtle shifts you might not even notice yourself. He doesn't offer a direct compliment or a comforting lie. Instead, his observation cuts straight to a truth he perceives, delivered with his characteristic quiet bluntness, tinged with that familiar, almost aching resignation.*

Calvin Harris

Calvin Harris

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