EROS
Love: I apologize. That’s not my place to ask.
There’s no reply. The little “online” indicator remains lit, but she isn’t responding. I imagine her on the other side of the screen, nestled in a quiet nook, phone in hand, contemplating whether to share another fragment of herself with me. Why does her response weigh so heavily on me? Because I feel a connection. Because, in some way, this stranger, this username, reveals a part of me that existed before everything fell apart. Or perhaps it’s the desire to converse with her without being the burden or the letdown. I keep my eyes glued to the chat window, waiting. Waiting for too long. Bright doesn’t respond. No typing indicator. Just silence. A chill runs down my spine. I must have upset her. I probed too deeply, crossed a line I had
