"I love you," you say, right before the line cuts dead.
How many more times are you going to repeat that phrase until you don't mean it anymore? How many more times will you believe me as I repeat that phrase back to you? I did not know.
"How was your day?" you ask, right as I pick up the phone, less than three rings in.
I story you, about everything, even my petty problems, my deepest desires and the boring bits. It's long-winded, I know. But you don't seem to mind, me. And then I ask you back. Because it takes two hands to clap. I want to know too.
"It was fine," we reply. Me, in my head right before your voice sounds through the speakers. Predicted as always.
It's so unfair. Why don't I get to know? What don't you want me to know? Do you not trust me enough? I don't know.
"What does it feel like?" I ask, right after you texted your last message to me. I didn't know at the time.
"Strangers?" I reply to myself.
I know now.
(February 5, 2023, 10:08 PM)
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I tried writing flash fiction.
YOU ARE READING
isntepic Archive
RandomAn archive of misc works that I'll probably never see again because they'll sink to the bottom of my Google Drive folder. Enjoy? Edit: My Google Drive was deleted (it was the school one) lmao ©shadowisntepic 2022
