Dialogue

A fragment I found in an old Obsidian archive and rewrote.

A cafe dialogue about loneliness, the dualism of the mind, and a network of mischievous neurons.

One night, long before I knew anything of encrypted texts, little Mus was awakened by the sound of crying, rising and falling like a musical scale. A girl in an ivory-white dress sat in the corner of the room, leaning against the cold wall. Her knees were pulled tight to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her head bowed, her face hidden in the folds of her arms. In the narrow space between breath and sob, tears fell. ...