Dwa_serca_dwa_smutki -

Marek didn't turn. He was thinking about the lyrics of the song that had played on the radio that morning. Two hearts, two sorrows. It felt like their biography. They had started with one heart and one joy, but somewhere between the long shifts at work and the bills piled on the counter, the heart had split, and the joy had doubled into two separate, private griefs. "I’m thinking about how quiet it is," Marek replied.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the loose pane of the window. In that moment, Marek reached across the table. His fingers brushed hers. They were both cold. dwa_serca_dwa_smutki

Beata sat at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long since gone cold. They were in the same room, yet the distance between them felt like an ocean. It was the kind of silence that doesn't mean peace; it was the kind that grows like moss over everything vibrant. Marek didn't turn