Mia

Coldness slid across her skin, even as she sat so close. Mia, wrapped in silence, stared at the screen of her phone, as if the world had shrunk to the size of this rectangle. The room smelled of her: perfume, hopes that now seemed ghostly. Another round of the silent war that had flared up within the walls of our apartment. Every piece of furniture, every ray of light breaking through the curtains seemed to be a witness.

I stood in the doorway, frozen in the wind. My heart was beating an anxious rhythm, echoing in my head. Words, like shards of a broken mirror, were stuck in my throat. I needed to say something, do something, interrupt this nightmarish dance of indifference, but I only felt my fingertips go numb.
One step forward and I was already behind her, but she didn’t notice my presence.
The light from the screen flickered in her eyes, reflecting someone else's words. They seemed to have more meaning than mine. My hand, as if obeying someone else's will, reached out to her, trying to find support in her silent presence.

• Take your hand away... - a quiet voice broke the silence