154. Letters That Will Never Be Sent (Yet)Roman

The suite is too quiet two hours after they left. It's not empty… quiet. As if the air itself has learned restraint. I have been… quiet too, thinking, trying to strategise but I can't come up with anything.

I don’t move for a long time. I sit where I am, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled down and then up again because I can’t decide what version of myself deserves to exist in this room. The coffee has gone cold. The city hums beyond the ...