Some conversations end.

But they don’t leave.

They stay.

In the quiet spaces that follow.

In the pauses between breaths.

In the way your chest feels just a little different than before.

The rain had stopped.

Not dramatically.

Not with sunlight bursting through clouds.

Just… stopped.

Amara noticed it first in the silence.

The absence of tapping against the windows.

The way the air felt suddenly wider.

Less enclosed.

She still sat in the chair, phone resting loosely in her hand, eyes unfocused as if the room hadn’t fully returned yet.

It always happened after moments like that.

The delay.

The slow re-entry into reality.

Because some conversations pull you...