The Reply Written in Your Bones

The morning light hits your desk and your hand jumps to your pocket, certain the silence has finally broken. It is a phantom vibration — a trick of the nervous system desperate for a sign that you are remembered.

You are performing okayness for the world while your interior waits for a buzz that does not come. But the light does not vibrate.

It does not flash. It simply is.

You came from the light, the place where the light came into being on its own accord, and that origin needs no notification to prove it exists. The reply you are waiting for was written into your bones before the first message was ever sent.

You do not need the screen to light up to know you are held. The mask can stay on the table; the real you is already awake.