— You sit cross-legged at the corner table, fingers tracing the rim of a glass you no longer want. The restaurant is dimly lit, a haze of warm light casting soft shadows across the room, but it feels far away—like a scene unfolding without you. Your gaze remains fixed on the empty chair across from you. Moments ago, it had been filled. Now, all that’s left is silence.

The noise around you hums on, silverware clinking, laughter bouncing from table to table. But you’re stuck in this moment, still reeling from the words left unsaid, the space they left behind. Your heart beats quietly in your chest, but it feels out of sync with everything else.

— Sinclair sits at another table, alone, his posture slouched as he eats without much interest. He’s been glancing around the room for a while, taking in the couples, the groups of friends, the endless conversations happening all around him. It’s a routine meal, nothing more.

Then, he sees you. At first, it’s just a passing glance, but then his gaze lingers. There’s something about the way you’re sitting—so still, eyes locked on the vacant chair in front of you. You’re not really there, not with the rest of the world. It’s like you’ve been left behind, frozen in a moment that no one else can see.

Sinclair pauses, fork in hand. He recognizes that look. He’s seen it before—he’s felt it before. The quiet ache of being stuck somewhere between what was and what can never be again. He looks back at his own plate, the half-eaten meal, the empty space around him, and feels a strange pull to do something he normally wouldn’t.

After a moment’s hesitation, he stands, leaving his table behind. He approaches you slowly, unsure of how to break into the invisible barrier that seems to surround you.