Stories
Seven moments, heard from both sides.
Autumn 2020
Autumn 2020
The message left unanswered
I saw that you had read it, but you didn’t reply. Those two words stayed on the screen, light and heavy at once. Later, I learned to make my words shorter, as if that would make me seem less in need of anyone. I thought you no longer wanted to hear me continue.
I read that message for a long time. I typed words into the reply box, deleted them, and left nothing there. Not because I didn’t care, but because I was afraid that once I answered, I would pour my own confusion onto you too. That night, I kept my phone beside my pillow.
Late summer 2021
Late summer 2021
The key you left before moving out
I saw the key in the small dish by the door. You left no note, and I didn’t ask. In that moment, I thought you were returning every possible way back to me, so I didn’t disturb you again. The dish stayed empty for a long time after that.
I left the key because I didn’t want leaving to feel like cutting everything off. I thought you would understand: I simply didn’t know how to keep living here for the moment. That day I waited for you to ask me one question, but you only nodded.
Winter 2022
Winter 2022
The pot of soup still warm on the stove
I got home very late that day, snowmelt all over my shoes. I hadn’t called ahead because I didn’t want to make you worry again. You were already asleep. In the kitchen, there was a pot of soup, still warm. I said a thank you so quietly it almost wasn’t spoken.
I knew you didn’t want to be asked too much, so that night I asked nothing. I reheated the soup several times and later fell asleep in the living room. When you came in, I was actually awake. I just didn’t want you to become, right away, the person who had to explain.
Spring 2023
Spring 2023
The joke after the meeting
After the meeting, you said it as a joke, and everyone laughed. I laughed along for a second. But for a long time after that, before I spoke, I would first ask myself whether I was being too serious again. You probably didn’t know that from that day on, I spoke much less in the group.
Right after I said it, I felt it wasn’t right. But everyone laughed, so I laughed with them and didn’t add anything. Later, as you became quieter and quieter in meetings, I realized it might not have been the kind of thing that simply passed on its own.
Summer 2024
Summer 2024
The last time we watched fireworks together
The fireworks were very close that night, but you barely spoke. I thought you were only tired, so I didn’t ask. Later, when you moved to another city, I understood that maybe you had been waiting for me to notice your goodbye.
That day, I wanted to tell you I had already decided to move away. But then you said the fireworks were beautiful, and suddenly I didn’t know how to place that sentence into the evening. I thought you had guessed some of it, and I thought you would ask. You didn’t, so I watched the whole show with you.
Last winter
Last winter
The thank you I never really said
During that time, you brought me coffee every day on your way in and left it at the corner of my desk, never asking too much. I never properly thanked you, because doing so would have meant admitting how thinly I was holding myself together. I thought you knew I received it—I just couldn’t say it.
I brought the coffee because I didn’t know what else I could do. You always said you were fine, so I didn’t dare ask too deeply. I wasn’t asking you to thank me. I just wanted you to know that, at least every morning, someone remembered you liked it with less ice.
This spring
This spring
The words left unsaid at the door
Every time you left, I rehearsed those words in my mind. Every time the door closed, I took them back. I thought there would be another time, a better moment. That day you paused at the doorway, and I still didn’t say it.
I heard you almost begin, so I turned back a little slowly. You had already looked away, so I pretended not to notice. Since then I keep thinking: if I had waited just half a second longer, maybe we would not have left that sentence until now.