She stood beside him, their bodies cast in the morning light like statues waiting for a god that would never come. The man said nothing. Neither did she. There was no shame, nor desire, only the simple fact of being — flesh and form arranged by chance. Outside, the sun beat down with the same indifference it gave to all things: life, death, beauty, loneliness. She noticed the shape of him, impressive perhaps, but in the end it was just another shape. They were two people. They were nothing more. And that was everything