Write me back for real

Mmm. Oh. Paper on the table. Pen in my

hand. I slow down on purpose. I breathe before I write.

My handwriting says more than my phone ever might. A little ink

on my thumb. A smudge in the corner. This page feels honest.

This page feels warmer. The paper smells like back then, like we still

had time. No typing, no deleting, just you and my lines.

No timer in my ear. No voice note in a rush. I don't want

"all I'm fine". I want something that lasts. I'll write you a letter,