Threshold of gratitude

A simple knock dissolves the ambient noise of the medical show, 

pulling me back to my window-side reverie.

The cold seeps into my bones, a persistent chill that mirrors the internal landscape of my emotions. 

I open the door to find my neighbor...

her smile a luminous beacon...

holding out a dark chocolate bar.

Oh, dark chocolate...

my solace, my poetry in edible form. 

The more bitter, the more beloved. Each square is a metaphor, a microcosm of our world: intricate, complex, simultaneously harsh and beautiful. 

Like layers of human emotion, it speaks in nuanced whispers—bitter first, then surrendering to a deep, rich sweetness.

She knows the terrain of my recent struggles and arrives with this small embassy of care. 

Her gesture is deliberate, tender...a language beyond words. In return, I always ensure her favorite coffee finds its way to her, our silent covenant of compassion. 

An exchange of kindnesses, unspoken yet profound.
Appreciation has never been my fluent tongue. 

Words often fail me, but my heart—oh, my heart—it remembers. 

Every soft touch, every unexpected smile, every moment of quiet compassion is etched into its silent memory. 

I collect these moments like rare, delicate artifacts. 

She leaves me with more than chocolate—she leaves me with a fragment of understanding. 

I return to my seat, watching the chocolate melt against my palm, its warmth mirroring the gradual thawing of my carefully constructed walls. Emotions rise like gentle steam, undefined yet achingly present.
I remain suspended in this landscape of unspoken feelings—longing to articulate, yet finding a peculiar comfort in the silence. In the bitter-sweetness of simply being understood.