A book lay open.
A coffee cooled beside it.
A camera waited.

Nothing asked to be touched.

The words rested between pages, the warmth between her hands, the moment between seeing and remembering. She did not read, did not drink, did not photograph. She simply stayed.

Some things are just meant to be enjoyed
A sentence.
A  a cup.
A moment.

The camera remembered the silence.
The book held the dream.
The coffee kept the time.