He felt a hand slide into his—smaller now, more fragile, but just as steady. Clara, in a yellow raincoat that had seen better days, smiled up at him. "Still a bit damp," she remarked.
Elias sat on the edge of a rusted park bench, his collar turned up against the chill. He wasn’t waiting for a bus or a person—he was waiting for the feeling of being untethered to finally pull him under. At twenty-four, he felt like a ghost in his own life, moving through a sequence of shifts at a quiet bookstore and long walks through a city that seemed to have forgotten him. "It’s a bit damp for a sit-down, isn’t it?"
The rain continued to fall, but for the first time in a long time, the world didn't feel blurred at all. Im With You
That was the beginning. Over the next few months, Clara became the color in his black-and-white world. She was a whirlwind of "unnecessary" adventures: midnight trips to see the city lights from the old bridge, hunting for the best stale donuts at 4:00 AM, and sitting in silence at the back of jazz clubs.
"Well, Elias, you look like you’re searching for something that isn't on this bench." He felt a hand slide into his—smaller now,
"I don't know why you're here, Clara," he whispered, staring at his hands. "I’m a sinking ship. Eventually, I’m just going to pull you down with me."
The years that followed weren't perfect. There were days when Elias couldn't leave the house, and days when Clara’s own bright spirit flickered under the weight of her own struggles. But the phrase became their anchor. When the hospital bills came, when the bookstore closed, when the world felt like it was spinning too fast—they would find each other’s eyes and say it. Elias sat on the edge of a rusted
Clara didn't offer a platitude. She didn't tell him he was wrong or that he was "stronger than he knew." Instead, she moved across the floor and sat right next to him, her shoulder pressing firmly against his.