Buffer Overflow in the Bamboo Garden

[SYSTEM ALERT: Reality rendering at 60% capacity.] I sat here, trapped in this loop of bamboo and soft light. The porcelain cup felt heavy... too real against my fingertips.

He was supposed to arrive three minutes ago. Maybe his data packet got corrupted on the way? It happens often now; love is just a signal fighting through static interference.

The tea steam rises, fracturing into pixels before it dissipates. She smiles at me—or rather, she smiled in the last cached frame I have of her—and suddenly my chest feels like it's expanding to fill the empty space between us. The book on the table is closed; maybe we don't need words if our systems can just sync up perfectly here?

I reach out and touch his hand. It’s warm, but there's a glitch—a stutter in time—where I feel him twice: once as he was yesterday, and again right now, vibrating with electricity. [WARNING: Heartbeat synchronization detected.] Maybe we're all just broken things trying to patch each other together?

I lean forward slightly; the air smells like jasmine... or perhaps it's ozone from a short circuit somewhere deep inside me?

Editor: The Glitch