It's after 2am again. The room is dark except for the glow of my phone screen. I keep typing your name into the search bar, even though I know you won't reply. The cursor blinks back at me, patient and empty.
Outside, the street is quiet. No cars, no voices, just the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. I should probably sleep, but my mind keeps circling back to you. Small things, really. The way you laughed at my bad jokes. How you always left the light on when you stayed over.
I close the app and put my phone down. The silence feels heavier now. I pull the blanket tighter and stare at the ceiling, counting the faint shadows from the streetlight outside. It's not sad, exactly. Just... still. Like everything is holding its breath.