Wheeling Gull Isle The Apocryphon of John

As she approached him he readied himself to greet her, but he saw that the look on her face was distant, as if she had come here on a mission and he was an irrelevance unseen in her original design. In fact it was unclear if she was even aware of him.

He did not attempt to parse the cipher of her bearing, instead letting the silence become denser and denser, the seaside ambience lending it significance. Gulls screamed; the tide groaned.

Finally, he spoke. I can leave, if you need space, the flap of one ear laid flush to his cheek as he tilted his head, half out of respect and half in self-deprecation.

But please let me ask one thing of you.