The Space Between Messages
1152 Words
"You never notice how much a conversation has become part of your life until it doesn't happen."
Amy
Wednesday mornings usually followed the same pattern.
Coffee.
Traffic.
Grace reminding everyone about deadlines.
Jordan insisting the office printer had a personal grudge against him.
Normal.
Comfortably normal.
By ten o'clock, though, I'd already checked my phone three times.
Not because I expected a message.
Just...
Habit.
At least, that's what I told myself.
I slipped my phone into my desk drawer before anyone noticed.
Especially Jordan.
"You've got that look again."
Too late.
I looked up.
"What look?"
"The one where you're physically here..." He waved a hand in front of my face. "...but mentally somewhere else."
"I'm thinking."
"That's what worries me."
I smiled despite myself.
"I thought engineers were supposed to think."
"We are."
He pointed his pencil toward my desk.
"But usually we stare at blueprints."
His eyes drifted toward my closed drawer.
"You've been staring at your phone."
"I checked the time."
He glanced at the large wall clock.
"Did that one stop working?"
I sighed.
"You ask too many questions."
"And you avoid too many answers."
Before I could reply, Grace called us into the conference room.
Saved by engineering.
Again.
The meeting passed quickly.
Assignments.
Deadlines.
Client revisions.
I filled pages with notes, asked questions, and volunteered to verify another section of the redevelopment project.
Work helped.
At least while I was doing it.
The moment there was silence...
My thoughts wandered again.
I wondered if Nocturne was having a busy day.
Whether he'd found another song.
Whether he'd listened to one and thought of me.
The thought startled me.
I barely knew him.
Yet somehow...
He'd become part of the rhythm of my thinking.
That realization followed me all morning.
---
Lucas
I didn't message her.
Not before work.
Not during lunch.
Not after the strategy meeting that left me with a headache.
Three different times, I opened our conversation.
Three different times, I closed it again.
This was becoming too easy.
Too familiar.
Amy had quietly become the person I looked forward to talking to most.
That alone should've made me pull back.
Instead...
I caught myself wondering how her presentation confidence was holding up after yesterday.
Whether she'd eaten lunch.
Whether Jordan was still arguing with her over structural models.
Personal thoughts.
Dangerous thoughts.
The kind I'd promised myself I wouldn't have again.
A knock sounded against my office door.
Noah stepped inside carrying two coffees.
He handed me one without asking.
"You've looked at your phone six times in the last fifteen minutes."
"I have emails."
"You have one conversation."
I didn't answer.
He sat across from me.
"You didn't message her."
"No."
"You going to?"
"I don't know."
He nodded.
"You're scared."
"I'm cautious."
"No."
He shook his head.
"You're scared."
I looked out the window.
"Of what?"
He was quiet for a long moment.
Finally...
"You're scared of needing someone again."
The words landed harder than I expected.
Because they were true.
I'd rebuilt my life so carefully.
Routine.
Work.
Music.
Distance.
None of those things could leave me.
People could.
---
Amy
By the time I reached Willow & Bean, I was mentally exhausted.
Not because engineering had gone badly.
Because my mind had spent the entire day trying to solve two completely different problems.
One involved load calculations.
The other involved understanding why someone I'd never met had become part of my daily routine.
Mrs. Harper looked up as the bell chimed.
"Rough day?"
"How can you tell?"
"You ordered a large coffee."
I laughed.
"I guess I did."
She smiled.
"Window seat?"
"Always."
For twenty minutes I worked.
Really worked.
When I finished the section I'd been struggling with, I reached for my phone almost automatically.
Nothing.
I frowned at myself.
Since when did that matter?
Another ten minutes passed.
Mrs. Harper appeared beside my table carrying a warm chocolate chip cookie.
"I didn't order this."
"I know."
Instead of walking away, she sat across from me.
"You waiting on someone?"
I looked into my coffee.
"I don't know."
She smiled.
"That's an honest answer."
"I've been talking to someone."
"Okay."
"I don't know his name."
She nodded.
"I've never seen his face."
She waited.
"I keep wondering if he'll message."
Mrs. Harper wrapped both hands around her coffee.
Then quietly asked,
"Do you miss him?"
The question stole the air from my lungs.
Miss him?
How could I miss someone I'd never met?
I'd never heard his voice.
Never looked into his eyes.
Never even shaken his hand.
And yet...
The empty space where our conversation should've been felt strangely loud.
"I think..."
I swallowed.
"I think I miss how he makes me feel."
Mrs. Harper smiled gently.
"That's an important difference."
"So I'm not completely losing my mind?"
"No."
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
"I think you're discovering that feeling safe with someone has very little to do with how long you've known them."
---
Lucas
7:23 p.m.
The record player sat silent.
Coffee cooled beside me.
I opened our conversation again.
The last thing she'd written still waited on the screen.
Sleep well.
Three simple words.
Entirely Amy.
Kind.
Thoughtful.
Easy to overlook.
Impossible to forget.
I rubbed a hand across my jaw.
This was ridiculous.
I was a CEO negotiating billion-dollar contracts.
Yet somehow...
One message felt harder than all of them.
I typed.
Deleted it.
Started again.
Deleted that too.
Why?
Because this mattered.
More than I wanted it to.
I laughed quietly at myself.
Then stopped thinking.
Nocturne: I hope today was kind to you.
I pressed Send.
Immediately questioned it.
Then waited.
---
Amy
My phone buzzed.
I looked down.
Nocturne.
The smile arrived before I even opened the message.
Mrs. Harper noticed immediately.
"There he is."
I laughed.
"I think there he is."
I opened the message.
I hope today was kind to you.
Not...
How was your day?
Not...
Hey.
Not...
What's up?
He'd asked something different.
Something gentler.
Something that sounded like he'd been thinking about me.
I typed.
Me: It tried its best.
Three dots appeared almost instantly.
Nocturne: And you?
I stopped.
He wasn't asking about my day.
He was asking about me.
No one had done that in a long time.
Me: I think I survived.
His reply came seconds later.
Nocturne: I never doubted you would.
I looked out through the rain-speckled café window.
Detroit blurred beneath gray skies and glowing headlights.
The city hadn't changed.
The weather hadn't changed.
Nothing around me had changed.
And yet...
Everything felt lighter.
Maybe Mrs. Harper had been right.
I wasn't waiting for messages.
I was waiting for the feeling they carried.
Because somewhere between shared songs...
Quiet honesty...
And thoughtful questions...
A stranger had become a place where I could rest.
And somehow...
That realization frightened me more than silence ever had.
- Writer
