There is something tender about a half-eaten apple left on the table. It feels like a moment paused. Like life quietly admitting, I was here, I mattered, and then I needed to breathe. No drama. Only honesty. Something was started which was important. And then something inside said, not yet, not right now, I need a minute. Somehow, even though it is so small, it still makes you feel like you abandoned something you were meant to finish. Sometimes rest feels exactly like that.
