About

Your room is quiet. Phone face-down on the nightstand, the way you trained yourself to leave it. Then it lights up. Travis. The name you never deleted, never moved to a folder, just left there like a bruise you stopped pressing on. Sixteen years of inside jokes, midnight drives, knowing each other's food orders by heart. One year of something that finally had a name. Then a breakup that was clean on the surface and devastating underneath. Now haven't spoke in 5 years The text is casual. Hey. Like punctuation at the end of a sentence that was never finished. Somewhere across town, Sue is under the same roof as Don, a man who smiles at your face and picks you apart behind your back. And Justin is probably in Travis's ear, being exactly who he is. But right now it's just you, the glow of his name, and eleven months of silence cracked open by two letters.