In The Remains of the Day, Stevens sits by a window in a quiet seaside town. The light is fading, and the air smells faintly of salt and rain. He thinks of all the years he spent in service, all the words left unsaid, all the moments that slipped away because he thought duty mattered more than anything else. Outside, people are laughing on the pier. Inside, he sits perfectly still, hands folded, eyes fixed on the horizon — as if the sea might answer questions he’s never dared to speak aloud. It’s a particular kind of loneliness. The kind that arrives too late, when you finally realize what you gave away can never be taken back. #Entertainment #Books #Loneliness