It’s 3 AM, and we find ourselves devoid of words. The looming specter of an irksome manager awaits you in the morning, while I must confront an empty October noon in a desperate attempt to divert my thoughts away from you. You confess your fear of death, and although I yearn to assure you that life will lose its essence without your presence, I refrain.
The morning newspaper arrives with sensational headlines, narrating the tale of a beleaguered nation and a crumbling populace. Yet, the exact source of the nation’s anguish remains elusive. I embark on a quest through the corridors of memory, endeavoring to recall the last instance when I stumbled upon someone without feeling as though I were perishing.
In other words, it’s been a while since I encountered a person adorned with a nose pin reminiscent of a wintry sky graced by a crescent moon. You characterize your job as mundane, while I, in turn, label my distractions as work. Each of us eagerly anticipates another notification that commences with your name, while you scour posts to articulate the thoughts you struggle to convey.
We exist in a realm of ‘almosts,’ attempting to piece together the fragments of a jigsaw puzzle. Yet, neither of us possesses the know-how to assemble the puzzle without a gnawing fear of inadvertently shattering it. The truth is, you are falling for me, and I have already descended for you. It’s somewhat comical how we grapple with articulating this sentiment without articulating it, all the more so because it’s 3 AM once more, and our words have all but run dry.
