Page 17 - DivineSparkRising II-TheMirrorofSilenceFinal

Nicholas Boothman
Henry stepped down and tasted metal in the
morning air.
Lisbon still smelled of diesel and sea-salt coffee,
but something inside it had changed. Too much
pause between sounds. Too much space between
words.
A street vendor stacked oranges without
speaking. A guitarist tuned, strummed one bright
note, and stopped halfway through a chord as if the
song had walked away from him. Even the pigeons
above the rooftops seemed quieter, their wings
slicing air without rhythm.
Six months since Sintra. Six months since Sofia
fell into light and silence. Six months since dawn
broke over the Well and the world decided to tell
the truth.
Henry adjusted the strap of his old canvas bag
and listened. The city was whispering again, not
through voices, but through the space between
them.
He turned toward the river and began to walk.
The waterfront cafés were open but half-empty.
Conversations had become cautious, stripped
down to what was necessary. People looked at one
another before speaking, as if words now carried a
cost. Henry ordered a coffee from a young waiter
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