Nixie and the Quiet That Wouldn’t Leave

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Long ago, before goodbyes knew how to end, there lived a dragon named Nixie. Her cave was warm, lined with river stones that still hummed from the day’s sun. But tonight, the quiet was different. It sat beside her, heavy and still, like a stone that refused to hum. The quiet wouldn’t leave. Nixie curled her tail tighter. She had said goodbye to the fireflies at dusk, and now the cave felt too big. She flicked her claws against the wall, just to hear something. Tap. Tap. The sound vanished too quickly. Between you and me, she thought, the quiet feels like a held breath. She pressed her ear to the cave floor. The earth rumbled faintly, like a stomach after a long sleep. Maybe the quiet wasn’t empty. Maybe it was full of things she couldn’t hear yet. She blew a tiny flame into the air. It flickered, then settled, casting shadows that danced like fireflies who’d forgotten to leave. The quiet wouldn’t leave. She closed her eyes and listened again. The cave walls sighed. The river outside whispered to the stones. The quiet wasn’t silent—it was waiting. Nixie stretched out on the warmest stone, her belly rising and falling with the cave’s breath. The quiet settled beside her, softer now, like a blanket made of dusk. The quiet wouldn’t leave. And for the first time, she didn’t want it to. Her claws uncurled. The cave hummed. The quiet stayed. And ever since then, goodbyes know how to end.

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