Typing

Messages that once exploded like fireworks now flash gray dots - three bubbles, then silence. And from this pause, louder than any response, the emptiness begins to ring. It's a familiar game: first, confident steps toward each other, then a sudden turn around - and all that remains in the feed are quotes about space and vague hints at the depth that they actually fear.

There is a special pain in how people can say “you are my world” and in the same second disappear, as if they had rehearsed it. At first, hugs seem like gravity, and then like a light breeze that doesn't even linger. The taste of “slow answers” quickly becomes bitter, because care is always felt at the speed of light.

And yet, somewhere inside, instead of regret, there is a feeling of lightness. Because how long can you analyze someone else's silence? It turns out that you can just stop typing into the void. Leave without slamming the door and leave behind not a taste of resentment, but a strange, almost sweet feeling of freedom.