#int. melodyxleee

[intermorior]

��catching smoke,” he mused, accent smooth on hoarse syllables, scarred fingers furling loosely around the plain mug the barista had handed him—black coffee, uncomplicated, just bitter enough to take the edge off, “aye, know that feelin’ well ‘nough… s’like nailin’ jelly to a wall some days,”

a name gets called out from behind the counter, sharp against the din of the cafe. simon flinched—just barely—but his features remained steady, the only thing to quicken was the rhythm of his thumb against heated ceramic, “writing’s a bit funny like that, won’t come when y’call it, but right as rain it’ll show up when y’try to sleep later,” pauses, dark eyes roaming again before they return to meet her gaze, “reckon the tryin’ counts more than the catching, though,”

his mouth quirks up at one corner, the scar there pulling slightly, “‘less you have a deadline, that is,”

Melody’s fingers idly traced the rim of her coffee cup, the steady motion grounding her, though her mind was anything but still. The bell above the door had barely registered in her head, the jingle becoming just another background noise in a morning full of unspoken thoughts. His voice, low and rough around the edges, cut through the haze of her own frustration, and she met his gaze with a flicker of something close to recognition, a slight lift of her brow. "You could say that," she replied softly, the weight of the unspoken words between them hanging in the air as if they'd been waiting for this very moment. "One of those mornings where it feels like trying to catch smoke with your hands, you know?"

Her eyes moved down to the notebook, the pen now an afterthought, abandoned mid-sentence like so many other things in her life that hadn’t been finished. She exhaled quietly, her shoulders loosening ever so slightly as she looked back at Simon, not bothering to hide the ghost of a smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Maybe I was just too ambitious with the idea of writing this morning. Some days, it’s like the words are a distant memory, and all you’re left with is the ache." She paused, studying him for a moment. "Guess that's where you come in, huh? Offering that 'break' I didn’t know I needed." Her voice was playful, but there was something softer underneath, a quiet kind of gratitude for the quiet understanding between them, however fleeting.

[intermorior]

the bell above the door gave a hollow jingle, the kind that clung to the back of the teeth long after the sound had faded, and simon ducked his head beneath the frame, shoulders rolling with the familiar ache that never quite left him—not with rest, not with time. the air inside was thick with the rich scent of coffee grounds and pastries gone ever-so-slightly stale through the morning, a welcome change from the antiseptic chill of the va clinic that still stuck to his skin like a second layer, both wanted and unwanted.

his eyes swept the room before his mind could remind him to stop—clocking exits, counting heads, measuring the distance from one table to the next like it mattered. like anyone here was a threat. old habits never died, simply lurked in the marrow waiting to be proven necessary again.

“ta for the offer,” he rumbled, easing his frame into the chair opposite her. something in the soft curve of her expression, the hint of quiet frustration hovering at the edges, pulled him in before he had the good sense to walk away, and his gaze flicked to her pen—abandoned?—rubbed at the scar along his jaw as if the words might settle there, just beneath the flesh.

“been one of those mornings where the words don’t come, yeah?” he murmured, voice low, roughened about the syllables, head tilting toward the notebook, something like understanding flickering behind his dark eyes. “sometimes the only way forward's a break.” @melodyxleee

Open starter: @aurorabaystarter location: driftwood coffee

The warmth of her chai latte sat untouched beside her, the steam still rising in delicate spirals. She’d been coming to this café for years, the smell of freshly ground coffee beans always drawing her in like a magnet. There was something about the atmosphere—calm but lively—that made it the perfect place to think, or not think at all. Her mind, as it often did, was scattered with a dozen different things, but here, she could let it all float.

Her pen hovered over the page for a moment before she sighed and let it fall, letting herself relax into the cozy corner. Maybe today wasn’t a day for writing. Maybe it was a day for simply being. She took a slow sip of her drink, the warmth comforting her as she glanced around the café, wondering who else was here today. "Hey, yeah that chair is free for the taking or you can join me for coffee." she said to the other with a simple smile.