She sent the message at
9:47 a.m. and watched
the little checkmark turn
blue.
He read it. He didn't
reply.
She told herself it was
nothing — he was busy,
in a meeting,
distracted. She opened
her laptop and tried to
care about the spreadsheet
in front of her. She
typed a number wrong.
Deleted it. Typed it
again.
By noon, she'd checked
her phone eleven times.
The conversation sat
there, untouched, ending
with her own words like
a question no one had
answered.
Maybe I said something wrong
, she thought.
Maybe I always say something wrong.
At 3 p.m., he
replied:
Sorry, crazy day. You okay?
She typed Yeah, fine!
in two seconds.
Then she put the phone
face-down and stared at
the wall for a long
time, not knowing why
she still felt so far
away.