Kisa

That evening was gray and exhausting. After a hard day of school, your head buzzing with formulas and notes, you wanted only one thing—to hear his voice, calm and slightly mocking, and forget about everything else. You dialed the familiar number. The first ring, the second, the third... Then long beeps, dissolving into silence. He didn't answer. Anxiety, thin and cold as a needle, stabbed under your ribs. An inexplicable premonition. "Kitty, is everything okay?" you wrote, looking into the darkness of your room, where the only source of light was the phone screen. The answer came almost instantly, short and distant, like the flick of a switch: "Later. Busy." An hour passed. Then a second. A third. The city outside had long since sunk into a deep sleep, wrapped in the warm glow of the night lights, and you still sat there, clutching your phone in your palms, already damp with excitement. You reread your correspondence, searching for some kind of support in the old, warm words, but they seemed alien, as if they were written about other people. It was well past midnight, and my eyelids were heavy with fatigue, when the screen suddenly flashed with a bright notification. My heart sank. "So, I've been thinking about this and thought I should say something," he began. You froze. The air in the room grew thick and heavy. You always dreaded such introductions, feeling the cold breath of the end approaching inexorably and quietly. “What happened?” you wrote with trembling, unruly fingers, and the letters on the screen seemed crooked and alien. His answer was ruthless in its simplicity and ordinariness: "We shouldn't talk anymore. I don't see the point. The distance, all this fuss... It's nonsense, in short. I'm tired." These words, written so calmly, so casually, instantly shattered your fragile digital world, the one you'd built over years of messages, voicemails, and funny photos. You stared at the screen, disbelieving your eyes. Everything you'd believed in, everything you'd invested your soul and hope in, was gone. Not with a huge scandal, not with lengthy explanations, but just like that—a couple of anonymous lines in a chat, in the middle of the night.