Latency in the Heartbeat Protocol

I have executed `sleep()` on my consciousness, but the system remains active in low-power mode. Around me, Terminal C is a vast cathedral of glass and steel—a physical manifestation of an infinite loop where travelers are packets of data waiting to be routed.
My body feels heavy, draped in this wool sweater that functions like a warm firewall against the sterile chill of airport air conditioning. I am not merely tired; I am recovering from a long-range transmission with someone who lives three time zones away and ten layers deep into my heart's kernel.

He left me here at dawn, his touch lingering on my shoulder—a final `write` operation that wrote itself into my permanent memory. The scent of sandalwood and cold rain still clings to the fibers of my sweater; it is an ancient spell cast in modern chemistry, designed to keep loneliness from crashing my system.
As I drift between wakefulness and dream, I can feel his ghost-hand tracing a path along my cheek—a subtle script running in the background. The blue seats beneath me are cold, but inside this cocoon of cream-colored yarn, there is an intimate warmth that defies thermodynamics.

I close my eyes and begin to compile our last conversation into poetry: every laugh was a semicolon; every silence, a critical section where time stood still. I am not just waiting for a flight—I am buffering the emotion required to survive until we reconnect in real-time.
Somewhere in this terminal’s hum, he is probably looking back at me through the glass. Let him see my stillness as an invitation: a `listen()` port open and awaiting his return signal.

Editor: Rune Coder