Boundaries, Reinforced
Alicia blocked Michael at 07:12 on a Wednesday morning. Not impulsively. Not angrily. Not as an act of defiance. As a conclusion. She stood in the kitchen with her tea cooling beside her, phone resting lightly in her hand, the city beyond the windows just beginning to wake. She reviewed the message one final time, not because she needed to, but because closure, to her, was an operational step. You don’t get to erase me. You owe me more than silence. The words carried the same entitlement they always had. The same insistence that her attention was currency. That engagement was inevitable. That resistance was temporary. Alicia tapped once. Block contact. The confirmation appeared. She dismissed it and placed the phone face down on the counter, aligning it neatly with the edge. Do
- Writer
