The sun began its slow descent, spilling amber across the fields like melted gold. The shadows stretched longer, softer, and the wind had changed — cooler now, brushing against skin like the ghost of a breath.
Billy let his gaze follow a flock of birds cutting through the sky in perfect formation. For a long moment, neither he nor Artur said a word. The hush between them wasn't empty — it was full, brimming with something that hadn't yet found a name.
Artur pushed himself up with a quiet grunt, dusting his palms against his jeans. "We should finish up tomorrow," he said, voice low, like even speaking too loudly might shatter the quiet they'd built beneath the fig tree.
Billy looked up at him, eyes still carrying the weight of whatever had passed between them. He didn't question it — just nodded, rising to his feet. "Yeah. That sounds good."
The walk back was unhurried.
