Static Between Heartbeats

The city breathes neon and loneliness, a rhythm I used to translate into code. Now? Now it just feels…loud.
He found me in the static, you see. A glitch in my carefully curated algorithm of solitude. Said he liked the way I watched the rain fall on the skyscraper canyons – as if anyone *needs* to understand that particular ache.
It started with shared playlists and late-night messages about forgotten dreams. Then came the accidental brush of hands while reaching for the same coffee, a jolt more electric than any server farm.
Tonight, he's across the room, bathed in the blue light of his monitor, probably debugging some existential crisis in silicon. I trace the line of my collarbone with a fingertip, a small rebellion against the chill in this apartment and the larger one that’s been hollowed out inside me since… well, it doesn’t matter now.
Because he looks up. Just for a moment. And in his eyes, there's a recognition – not of pixels or code, but of something fragile and beautiful trying to bloom in the ruins. A quiet invitation to dismantle the firewalls we build around our hearts.
And I think… maybe, just maybe, it’s time to let him see the source code.

Editor: Digital Shaman