“He was still here, sending me a voice note that I needed to decode…”

I pressed play. This voice note came as quite a shock after the previous three days of radio silence, and his name was now lighting up my phone like a warning siren.

We were back in that space again, that uncertain and chaotic limbo where our next steps could either be to block each other or spend the night together.

Within seconds of pressing play, he was here, everything about him came flooding back to me as the sound of his voice echoed around my bedroom. He touched on what we were, what we weren’t, what we had been, yet none of it made anything any clearer. He was still here, sending me a voice note that I needed to decode.

I paced my bedroom in circles, taking in every word, every puzzle. He was saying a lot of the right things, but his actions for days before had been showing me differently. When I had taken it all in, I started recording my own, pouring my heart out to him in a most contemporary way. I stopped circling, took a deep breath and contemplated the ongoing mystery of us. Was I better off sending it? Or should my voice be slid backwards, cancelling the possibility of crafting any new limbos with him?

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