hdyaar
But you're not asking for a reason. You're asking for the door I already locked. You're asking for the password to a house that burned down while you were checking your phone.
Hdyaar. Now stop asking like I owe you weather. (End) hdyaar
A voice, low and steady, from the edge of a conversation. You want a reason? Hdyaar.
Not the whisper of it. Not the polite, folded-hands version. The full stop. The period that doesn't lead anywhere. hdyaar But you're not asking for a reason
This is the lack of shape. This is me, hanging up before the first ring finishes.
You want closure? That's a retail word. We don't sell that here. You want a reason
So here's your answer, unwrapped: No. And beneath that no, a smaller no. And beneath that, silence wearing a leather jacket.