"You're drifting again," he said softly. His voice felt heavy, like it was underwater.
When she finally reached him, she didn't take his hand. Instead, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder, letting out a breath she seemed to have been holding since yesterday. TENDER - Come Down When You're Ready
"Then we'll stay quiet," Elias promised. "We’ll just sit on the porch and watch the cars go by until the sun comes up. No talking. Just breathing." "You're drifting again," he said softly
"Okay," she whispered into the fabric of his jacket. "I'm coming down." Instead, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder,
The album Come Down When You’re Ready spun on a small portable player they’d dragged from the car. The bass was a steady heartbeat, a tether to the physical world. Elias stood up, his joints protesting the stillness. He didn't approach her; he knew the boundaries of her orbit. Instead, he leaned against the wall, matching her gaze toward the horizon.
"The world isn't going anywhere," he murmured, his tone devoid of pressure. "But the coffee’s getting cold, and I think I saw a star break through the clouds over the East Side."
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