Kind

It is maybe too kind.

My phone rings at off hours, at all times. It says things like, “It’s been a while” from Tokyo and “U up?” from Los Angeles, and from Nashville it’s always, always “I just can’t forget.”. The singsong cadence of my name, smudges from clumsy fingers, “I miss you…” from all across the world.

Here, from my sedentary vantage point, I can see patterns. In my stillness, everything slows to a crawl. My brain humming, processing algorithms. I could tell this one why they’re calling long before they’ll ever admit it. I can save that one the embarrassment and just listen – urgent, quiet voices and the glow of a screen in the dark.

One wears it more openly than another, but it all translates the same:

I am lonely. Save me.

But I can’t. So I listen. It is maybe too kind.

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