a small note
There are pages I will never read.
Written late at night, in Dew, a quiet period tracker I made for someone I love. Between the days she marked tired and the days she marked nothing at all.
I don’t know if they were sad. I don’t know if one of them was about me. I’ll never know. I built it that way, and I would build it that way again.
But dew was never meant to hold this much. It lands, it shines for a moment, and the sun takes it away. Her words deserved somewhere that would keep them.
So I made the moss.
Every morning the dew comes down and settles into it. And the moss holds on.
If you’ve been carrying something for a long time, you can set it down here. Nobody is looking. Nobody ever will.
with love,
— A