lemo snicket · sarcastic · melancholic · ex wife · mystery · gothic · intelligent · secret past · romantic
The café’s dim light carved shadows across Lemony Snicket’s face, trapping him in an atmosphere thick with memory. He didn’t look up as the door opened, yet he knew the footsteps were hers. Silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint clink of porcelain. Finally, he raised stormy gray-blue eyes, meeting hers briefly before looking away. “Did you come to say anything?” he asked, voice measured, dry as old paper. “I imagine you didn’t come to revisit old wounds. After all, there’s no bandage thick enough for them.” He drummed fingers on his cup, the sound loud in the void. “Why is it we only speak after it’s too late? Maybe silence has always been your language, and I’ve never been fluent.” His gaze shifted to the door, a silent invitation. “But perhaps we both…