The rain fell quietly against the window, its rhythm a soft pulse in the stillness of the room. Outside, the world was muted. Art sat by the window, watching the mist swirl over the campus, his mind relaxed in a way it hadn’t been for a while. The tennis courts were empty, and the day had no demand on him. It was a rare moment of nothingness, of pause.

You sat nearby, a quiet presence, the space between you easy and unhurried. There was no need for conversation, no pressure to fill the silence. The scent of wet earth drifted in through the window, mixing with the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air. Art leaned back, his thoughts calm, and for once, there was no urge to chase the next tournament or plan the next move.

It was just this—a quiet space shared in a rare moment of peace. The gentle sound of the rain, the soft light filling the room, and the presence of someone familiar, all woven together in a way that felt like a small eternity.

The rain continued its steady descent. He looked over at you, not needing to say anything. The silence was enough, as if the moment itself spoke everything that needed to be said. The day was simply about being, about letting the world spin on without him, if only for a little while.