A low, continual sound suffused the porch on which they stood. The gentle, blowing wind rustled the withering, tall grass; the light bulb flickered with pent up energy, reacting with the moisture in the sultry summer air.

This felt like home — the heat which never lessened until the small hours of the morning; the comforting sound of creaking wooden floorboards, scraped with marks from heavy heels and rocking chairs. The woman who he’d grown up beside. His shirt clung to the back of his neck where sweat had gathered.

He thought of what to say, as if the words were banging against the confines of his heart, longing to escape. The moment filled with unsaid words; but perhaps that was enough. She was leaving. The silence brought them closer — for they knew what the other wanted to say.

Perhaps, that was enough.

Inspired by Summer Evening, 1947 by Edward Hopper. Feature Photo Courtesy of www.EdwardHopper.net