How exactly did one quantify age or oldness?
Some would claim it came through wrinkles carved onto the flesh like glyphs, the slow decay of joints and bone, or the graying of hair kissed by countless suns.
Others would say that it was measured in experiences- a ledger of moments, some sweet, others shattering, that shaped the weight of one's existence.
Others believed age was the accumulation of self-reflection, of pain endured with grace, of love accepted and lost, of wonder that never faded.
And some deeper beliefs would describe age as a layering of consciousness across dimensions, a story told not in years but in the evolution of understanding.
And then, there were those who knew age wasn't a number at all, but a scent- musky and deep- or a gaze that saw you and every version of you, all at once.
Whatever it was, age was presence!
It was weight!
And in this moment, Noah Osmont- still, unwavering- gave off the feeling of age so deep it made the air dense.
