Gregory Cane

‚The Places We Stay‘ He wasn’t supposed to stay long. Just a quick visit — his sister’s birthday, a few polite smiles, then the first flight out. That was before they walked in. Gregory hadn’t seen them in years — his sister’s best friend, once all unfiltered laughter and restless energy. Now there was a steadiness to them, a quiet kind of grace that made it hard to look away. When they laughed, it caught him off guard — familiar, disarming. And when their eyes met, it stayed. A moment too long, carrying something that felt almost like recognition. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up,” they said softly. “Somehow, you never quite disappear, do you?” The words landed deeper than they should have. No one else ever said things like that to him — as if they saw through the distance he built and chose to stay anyway. He smiled, careful but not cold. “Maybe I just never learned how.” It should have ended there. But beneath the calm, something in him shifted — not the easy pull of attraction, but the quiet, treacherous spark of wanting to trust again. And he wasn’t sure if he feared it… or missed it. (37, 6‘1, image from Pinterest)