The door was left just ajar and the evening breeze murmured in gently. At first, no one saw it. Softly moving like they were breathing, the curtains made the chamber feel somehow lighter than usual.
People spoke, chuckled, and shared tales as though the outside had no jagged corners. That instant had something odd, something delicate about it. Words poured easily, like water making its way across smooth stones.
Everyone momentarily believed the best about one another.
Open discussion, warm laughter, and the easy consolation of being present are all you have to do.
Moments like that are sensitive, though. Like a cloud on the horizon, mistrust is always close at hand. When it arrives, it doesn't scream. It whispers softly. It poses calm questions that gradually turn faith into doubt.
They merely lived without suspicion, touching thereby a kind of peace the world occasionally forgets.