I Met You in the Dark

It was not a place of light—no stars overhead, no streetlamp’s glow, just the quiet hush of night folding around us like an old coat.

And yet, in that darkness, your voice was clear. Not loud, but certain. Like a single note played on a piano in an empty room—simple, true, and echoing long after it ended.

We didn’t know each other then. But something passed between us—an understanding, perhaps, or just the shared weight of being human in a world that often forgets to look up.

I’ve carried that moment since. Not as a memory to revisit often, but as a small warmth tucked away for colder days. Because sometimes, the most profound connections happen not in the spotlight, but in the gentle anonymity of the dark.