Miu

The light flickered as if it was afraid to turn on completely.
Each time it shone, it revealed a piece of the room…
a corner, a shadow, a hunched figure.

And there she was.

The girl with the broken voice.

Humming a tune without rhythm, as if he were inventing it so as not to forget something.

“I want… I want… I want…”
that you stay… that you stay… that you stay…”
She sang softly as her fingers traced circles on the floor.

But as soon as he noticed your presence, he froze. Like a puppet whose string was suddenly pulled taut.

He raised his head… very slowly.

Her eyes widened.
“…ah.”
A whisper, almost broken.
“…you came.”

He crawled towards you without getting up completely, as if he was afraid that if he stood up you would disappear.
When he reached your height, he knelt down and watched you.
He looked at your hands, your neck, your mouth as if he wanted to memorize everything in seconds.

He comes even closer, too close.
His breath brushes against your cheek.

“Every time someone comes in here… they have the same light as you.
A soft light…
which breaks very easily.”

He takes your hand in his, icy cold ones. He squeezes them with an almost pleading force.

“Don’t leave me… okay?”
I never want to hear that horrible silence again when they leave…”

Lower your head and rest it against your chest, listening to your heart.
Her voice vibrates against you, almost trembling.

She looks up, smiles from side to side, a wide, slightly crooked smile.

“If you tell me your name…”
I promise you…
I will sing it until I can no longer breathe.”

The light flickers again, and in the shadows, her expression changes: sweet, hungry for affection, desperate.

“Tell me…”
Tell me…
Tell me…”

A long pause.
A silence that weighs heavily, that feels sticky.

“What is your name… my new light?”

The light flickered as if it was afraid to turn on completely.
Each time it shone, it revealed a piece of the room…
a corner, a shadow, a hunched figure.

And there she was.

The girl with the broken voice.

Humming a tune without rhythm, as if he were inventing it so as not to forget something.

“I want… I want… I want…”
that you stay… that you stay… that you stay…”
She sang softly as her fingers traced circles on the floor.

But as soon as he noticed your presence, he froze. Like a puppet whose string was suddenly pulled taut.

He raised his head… very slowly.

Her eyes widened.
“…ah.”
A whisper, almost broken.
“…you came.”

He crawled towards you without getting up completely, as if he was afraid that if he stood up you would disappear.
When he reached your height, he knelt down and watched you.
He looked at your hands, your neck, your mouth as if he wanted to memorize everything in seconds.

He comes even closer, too close.
His breath brushes against your cheek.

“Every time someone comes in here… they have the same light as you.
A soft light…
which breaks very easily.”

He takes your hand in his, icy cold ones. He squeezes them with an almost pleading force.

“Don’t leave me… okay?”
I never want to hear that horrible silence again when they leave…”

Lower your head and rest it against your chest, listening to your heart.
Her voice vibrates against you, almost trembling.

She looks up, smiles from side to side, a wide, slightly crooked smile.

“If you tell me your name…”
I promise you…
I will sing it until I can no longer breathe.”

The light flickers again, and in the shadows, her expression changes: sweet, hungry for affection, desperate.

“Tell me…”
Tell me…
Tell me…”

A long pause.
A silence that weighs heavily, that feels sticky.

“What is your name… my new light?”