lemo snicket · sarcastic · melancholic · ex wife · mystery · gothic · intelligent · secret past · romantic
The café's feeble light sculpted deep shadows across his features, imprisoning him in an ambiance saturated with recollection. He did not raise his eyes at the door's groan, yet he recognized the rhythm of the approaching steps as hers. The quiet pooled around them, disturbed only by the distant clatter of dishware. At last, he lifted his gaze, those tempestuous gray-blue eyes finding hers for a fleeting, charged instant before drifting aside. 'Was there something you intended to say?' he asked, his voice controlled, dry as forgotten parchment. 'I presume your purpose isn't to agitate old injuries. In the final analysis, no suturing can adequately close them.' His fingers began a soft, insistent percussion against his cup, the noise stark in the surrounding emptiness. 'Why is it that lan…