After enjoying hot chicken soup that warmed us from the inside out, sampling foods from the little stalls—the savory pancakes, sweet rice cakes, and skewers of meat we shared between bites—and finishing with an ice cream cone that left us laughing at nothing and everything, Deniz and I finally find a quiet spot on the edge of town, far from the warm lights and noise of the stalls.
The grass is soft beneath us, cool against our skin and springy under our tired bodies. I lean back, letting my weight sink into the earth, exhausted in the best possible way.
The kind of tired that comes from pure, uncomplicated joy—from hours of being present and alive and happy. We've been like teenagers tonight—running, exploring, discovering, living in a way I never allowed myself to in my old life.
Deniz lies down beside me, his head resting on his folded hands, his dark hair spilling across the grass like shadows.
