A cup of milk at sharp 9

On the other end of the call, there was always a silent space for a couple of minutes between him and me. A moment when he would ask to roam into another room of his house just to make a cup of milk. It was always precisely at 9, no earlier, and sometimes even later, just to prolong our laughter or when we hadn’t finished listening to a song together.

I could never have imagined how my life would be without this person on the other end of the line. The thing is, he’s never been that close, yet he wasn’t the person who strayed away over the past years. I could never be indifferent towards him because every tiny thing about him is significant to me.

I used to overanalyze his favorite songs or when he mentioned something about a song he listened to. I would listen to his favorites over and over again, trying to understand which facet captivated his feelings, which lyric described him. I’ve always wondered why this person loved sad songs, something I usually avoided. But I was willing to listen because understanding him seemed like the least conspicuous manner of showing love without him noticing it, knowing there was no possibility of being with him.

A cup of milk at 9…

In those moments of silence, waiting for someone to brew hot water, there was a lot on my mind.

For the most part; I just didn’t want to give up on this person.

04/17/24

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