There—
      three little dots,

      blinking,
      breathing,

      holding me hostage.

She’s typing.
   Or thinking.
   Or deleting.

   Or—
      what?

A second, a pause—
                  forever.

I can't breathe.

I stare,
  as if…
  my eyes

  could pull the words through the screen faster.

Is it something sweet?
      Something sharp?

      Something that will unravel me?
                        or remake me?

The dots flicker—
            stop—
     start again—

     then _vanish_
     then come back-

     Are you there?

Come on—
   *say* it.

Show me what you almost said
     and thought better of.

It’s ridiculous,

I know.

But I’d rather the wrong words than no words at all.

Then—

*Ding*.

I exhale.

And it doesn’t matter
      what she wrote—

      because the real message was already sent.

She was there.

With me.

Dot…
    dot…
        dot…

And everything that could be.