The class files out and spills into the hallway, empty from another day of administrative routine and rigidity. I follow the congregation mindlessly, with an air of purpose and feigned confidence, only to turn the corner to another deserted impasse. A soft digital whisper from my pocket reminds me that, yes, outside of this abandoned hall, I am connected to another world of flickering appointments, missed deadlines, and unreturned messages. The name glows from the plastic screen, an opaque mirage of unmet expectations and childish daydreams.

With a trained twitch of the thumb, I answer the call after the fourth ring, without a word. It utters a simple hello. Like a lightning bolt piercing through a blanket of darkness, the sound of his voice illuminates, just for a moment, the buried existence of routine for which I mistook as tranquil reality. A silent moment slips away into the static binding us gently together.

I inhale, only to feel the pressure of endless questions and demands for explanations, squeeze against the seams of my chest. I exhale, remembering the first encounters, bursts of inexplicable laughter, cherished nights of vulnerability and honesty made oh the more beautiful by nostalgia.

Shaking, I switch it off, closing the flood of confusion, longing, and resentment. And abruptly the wavelengths cut away and the world resembles again the simple solitude of silence.