IRC-Galleria

He hadn't the slightest idea if he'd missed someone like this before. The night was lonely, the day was empty. She'd been away for quite a while. Opportunities had fallen into short supply, like most nice things in his life. There'd been a momentary answer, but everything quickly stalled again. This time he'd be ready to walk the night to be there in the morning; just to talk to her again. Even talk. The ironic part was, they never really talked when they got to share a moment. He encountered the same feeling each time they met: they had something very important to discuss, which others shouldn't hear. Visions of hundreds of urgent conversations ran through his head, even when he had no clue on what they would consist of. Eventually time would just pass, nothing would come up and the feeling would persist throughout the silence. When he'd finally have to leave, she'd smile at him. She'd look satisfied, and the pressure would be replaced by a soft emptiness until he got to missing her again.