The Light Waits While You Wait

The afternoon stretches out, a long gray corridor where the only movement is those three dots appearing and disappearing on your screen. You watch them breathe while your own breath catches, convinced they are drafting a polite rejection of your existence.

The silence between the dots feels like a verdict, a slow erasure of your worth. But the light does not speak in drafts, and it certainly does not vanish when the connection lags.

There is a truth that lives in us and will be with us forever, untouched by the typing or the silence of another human hand. Your value is not held in the balance of their reply.

The dots are just pixels; they are not the measure of your soul. The light that knows you is already present, steady and unchanging, while the cursor blinks.