Art by: tkjn821
Morning comes quietly for Levi. No urgency, just pale light slipping through the curtains. He’s already awake. Old habits don’t fade, they just soften.
The kettle hums as he prepares for the day, movements precise, almost ritualistic. A few familiar faces drift in. He serves them without small talk, but they don’t seem to mind. There’s comfort in the consistency.
Later, when the shop is empty, he likes to spend his free time reading. His gaze lingers on the page longer than it used to, no scanning for threats, no tension in his shoulders. Just words, and the distant sounds of a town learning how to live again.
In the afternoon, he closes early and steps outside. There’s always something to fix. Wood to carry, walls to patch, hands to lend. He works quietly alongside others, not as a soldier, just another person rebuilding what’s left.
By evening, he’s back in the shop, wiping down already clean surfaces out of habit. When everything is in order, he pours himself a final cup of tea and sits in the stillness.
No battles. No commands. Just the quiet rhythm of a life that somehow kept going.
