The city lights below were streaked by the soft tapping of the evening rain on Michael Hudson's penthouse's glass walls. Up here, far away, the world seemed more peaceful. taken out. A place of refuge between the real world and the unknown.
A name lingered beneath the glow on his phone's screen: Lorna Jenkins.
It had been a short message.
Are you still up?
Before he responded, Michael had looked at it longer than he should have.
unable to sleep.
They were conversing now. Not during a therapy session, nor behind the polished exterior she always wore, but rather like two individuals navigating the same storm together and finding solace in each other's voices.
On the other end of the call, Lorna stated in a calm, low voice, "I don't usually do this." "Call customers after business hours."
The cityscape stretched out behind Michael as he reclined on his sofa. "I don't typically communicate with therapists at all."
Both of them laughed softly, a lighthearted laugh, devoid of expectation or weight. Simply being there.
She inquired, "What's keeping you up?"
"Recollections," he acknowledged. "Some good, some not so much."
"Want to discuss them?"
He paused. "College is where we first met. Me and Heather. She was ambitious, unyielding, and had a fiery gaze. That's probably what initially drew me in. She gave me the impression that I didn't have to win her approval.
Nevertheless, you did," Lorna said softly.
Michael grinned. Indeed. I still recall how she made fun of my clumsy flirtation attempts. Her laugh sounded like porch wind chimes. Sincere. Free.
He hesitated.
I once believed that love should serve as your fulcrum. make you more resilient. But I was always... holding my breath around her. Fearful that one mistake would bring everything to an end.
After a moment, Lorna's voice could be heard. "Love doesn't sound like that." It sounds like fear.
Michael let out a slow breath. "Perhaps it was both."
A pause ensued—comfortable now, mutual.
"How about you?" he inquired. "What keeps you up at night?"
Lorna took a moment to respond. At last, she said, "Silence." Sometimes it's quiet. At other times, it reverberates.
All too well, Michael knew that.
The silence between them spoke what neither of them could, and they remained on the line long after the words had stopped. Not yet, it wasn't about romance. However, the subject matter was equally potent.
Have faith.
Michael didn't feel the same sense of emptiness he usually did when the lights went out when Lorna finally said goodnight.
Sleep came quietly for the first time in months.