To hear your voices and to hear them still, and then to hear them no longer and to begin typing the end of this sentence. To cup my hands to my face, in the weight of silence, and to run your words over my mind until my cheeks are warm. To formulate this loneliness, this darkness painted blank, and to feel the time running and opening and not opening at once. To give in to the line… the line still… To digress because the sake of digressing is all we have.