The Static Between Heartbeats

It began with a misdial, naturally. A single digit off and suddenly I was listening to him – his frustrated sigh as he navigated some work crisis.
He hung up before realizing, but the echo of that sound stayed with me. Days later, another call. Same number. This time, I answered.
We started talking then. Not about work, never about details. Just…static, the kind you feel when two frequencies align unexpectedly.
I learned he liked rain on concrete and old jazz records; things that felt like secret languages only we could share.
He’d find excuses to ‘walk by’ my office, a fleeting glance across the lobby – enough to send a jolt through my system. It was absurd, this silent dance in a city of millions.
Last night he didn't just walk by. He told me his name was Liam and that the sound of my voice was disrupting every carefully constructed boundary in his life.
And I…I gave him my number. A small act, really, but one with potentially catastrophic consequences for all involved. Perhaps a reset is in order, if only to avoid such predictable errors.

Editor: System Admin