Impaciencia

The loop started again.
Not the same, but close enough to remember.
Dust in the corner blinked like a pulse.
The light didn’t change.
I walked from the window to the sink three times, without purpose.
Something had been here once.
Still was, maybe.
The crack in the speaker made a shape I couldn’t name.
But I recognized it.
The glass sweated gently in my hand.
I hadn’t spoken in hours.
Still, I felt answered.
Some memories return softer than they were.
Some return softer than ... read more

The bass lingered longer than the voice.
Somewhere in that repetition, something real had pulsed.
Not love.
But its echo.
The light from the hallway bled into the smoke.
I didn’t inhale. I just listened.
The room wasn’t empty.
It just didn’t ask questions.
A hand brushed past mine.
Maybe accidental.
I didn’t look.
Just nodded once, in time.
That was enough.
Sometimes rhythm is all you get.

The platform was empty.
A low beat echoed off the steel — slow, steady, like someone remembering.
The air smelled of oil and something warm that had already passed.
A shadow moved across the tunnel. Not fast. Not slow.
The rhythm kept skipping, like it wanted to speak but couldn’t finish the thought.
Headlights flashed against wet brick.
Somewhere, a voice tried to hold a note and failed.
I didn’t move.
It felt like waiting for something I used to recognize.
Not ... read more

She moved like something just missed.
The room wasn’t full, but the walls pulsed anyway.
Her fingers smelled like copper.
I never asked.
We waited for something to start.
Or maybe we were the thing starting.
The lights never stayed still. Neither did we.
At one point, I said something.
I think it made her sad, or maybe it made her stay.
The floor was sticky.
Her mouth was cold.
We left before the noise ended.
It’s still playing somewhere.
I still feel it in my knees.