The Bank

Emma sat on an old wooden bench on a book with her knees and a Thermos Cannes Tea next to her. The bank was once one of the grandparents, and they had been claiming for decades, a place that was engraved with their initials and love. It was her sacred place now, a quiet corner of a large world.

On an early spring Sunday, the air was approaching the traces of winter cucumber, a still young man approaching the bank. Emma noticed him from the corner of his eyes - hearing his hair from the wind, a sketch under his arm. He took a break when he saw her.

"Would you keep it when you're sitting?" He asked, his voice soft and unsafe. She was surprised. No one ever asked in advance. People went, jogged, went to the dogs, but no one left the bank.

"Safe," she said, rolling slightly.

He was sitting on the other side and opened the sketch pad. The silence between them is comfortable but curious. "I'll come here and draw," he said a few minutes later. "Something about water helps me think."

"I'll come here and read," she smiled. "Or don't read it. Just... breathe."

He nodded. "I'm Leo."

"Emma."

They waved and started a little from that moment.

Spring has changed to summer, and Leo has become part of Sunday's normal. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they didn't. He would draw trees, ducks, sometimes they - but never said. She brings in an extra tea and quietly serves it as if it was always intended for him.

One morning, he brought a small radio with him and played old jazz, soft enough to stay out of the way. She hummed. He smiled.

"Do you know the song?" He asked. "Grandpa danced with her grandma. In the kitchen. Barefoot."

"It sounds like love," he said, looking at the water.

She looked at him instead.

Until the fall of , they shared more than the banks. Leo began to show her his sketches - with a pencil line filled with warmth. In return, Emma borrowed her favorite book. You talked about everything. Children's stories, fear, hope.

On Sunday, the wind was blown away more than usual. Emma arrives to find Leo and place a small box.

"I drew something," he tensed.

He handed her a framed sketch - the bank, the lake, and the two of them sitting nearby, almost touching their hands.

"I drew what I was seeing," he said.

She stared at it, her mind hurting in ways she didn't expect. She then reached out and held her hand.

Winter has arrived. Snow covered the lake. Nevertheless, they meet, bundled into coats and scarves, breathtaking in the air.

In the first snow of the

season, Leo turned to her.

"I think I love you," he said.

She was moved.

"Good," she whispered. "Because I know I love you."

And in the next silence, they kissed - Ruig, towards Gemempf. years have passed. The banks saw them throughout the season of joy and need. When Leo's mother was finished, Emma held her hand until her sadness softened. When Emma loses her job, Leo wakes up and helps her write her resume and reminds her of her worth. On the morning of spring, he proposed precisely - no epic gestures, no rings and smiles. "We're getting older here,"she said with tears in her eyes and laughed her lips.

For the 10th anniversary, they brought their daughter, Lily, to the bank. She ran around and laughed at the duck. Leo outlined her, and Emma looked at her. "Do you think you'll love this place one day?" I asked Emma.

Leo smiled. "You'll feel it. Dear Leaf, "

Years later, when the bank got older and worn out, Leo sat there alone, holding a book Emma once loved. She is now gone after the life she loved during her sleep. He still came every Sunday. I still brought two cups of tea. Sometimes, he would tell her. Sometimes, he would only hear the breeze. One morning, Lily sat next to him and came to catch her son.

"I think she should know something about the bank," she said.

Leo smiled and shed tears in his eyes. "Yes, tell him everything."

Because love, the pure species, never ends. It remained - a common look, soft words, the smell of old books and tea, the sounds of pencils on paper, how both hands were once almost touched on a wooden bench on a lake.