Most of the time, things are simply where they are.
A chair near a table. A window across a room. A person standing a few steps away. The far edge of a street. The space between one object and another.
These distances usually remain unnoticed.
Then, sometimes, they become clear.
Not in measurement, but in presence.
The room seems wider or narrower than it did a moment before. The stretch between two points feels more distinct. The arrangement of things becomes visible through the spaces that separate them.
Nothing needs to change for this to happen.
No object has moved. No place has been altered.
Still, the distance itself appears, quietly, as if it had stepped forward from the background where it usually remains.
After a while, the distances fade back into the ordinary shape of the scene.