They arrive, carrying the weight of love that has already been spent, from rooms where it once burned and then went cold. The silence bends to hold them, soft enough to cradle the ache, bright enough to bring warmth, even if it cannot last. Then they rise, lighter than before, leaving only the waterline that traces the height where their love once reached. It remains, quiet, hollow, a refuge that no one claims, a shore pressed by tides that come and go until one day, the water forgets its way back.