A quiet truth or dare

It was one of those evenings where we were both just scrolling, not really talking. I closed the other tabs on my laptop, just to clear the space a little. The silence wasn't bad, just a bit unfocused.

Finding the game in the quiet

I think I just said it out loud, more to the room than to him. "We could play that old game." It wasn't a grand suggestion, just a small thing to do instead of nothing. He looked up from his phone, a little surprised, then shrugged with a soft smile.There was no setup, no special rules. We just sat facing each other on the couch, knees almost touching. The low hum of the fridge was the only other sound. It felt less like starting a game and more like finally noticing we were in the same room.

The questions that weren't really questions

The truths came first. They weren't deep secrets, just little things. "What was the last song you actually listened to?" "Do you remember what I was wearing when we first met?" His answers were slow, thoughtful. Mine were too.It was funny how the dares were even quieter. "I dare you to go get us both a glass of water." "I dare you to tell me one thing you saw today that made you smile." They were just small nudges, ways to move through the stillness without breaking it.

A different kind of closeness

We didn't laugh loudly or have some big revelation. The mood just... settled. The space between us on the couch felt occupied, in a good way. It was the kind of closeness that comes from shared, gentle attention, not from intensity.After a while, the game just faded. We didn't declare it over. We just sat there, a little more present than before. The tabs were still closed, and for a little while, that was enough.