An Autumn Morning

It had been months since the fight with Mico—long, draining months filled with silence that cut deeper than the argument ever had. Everyone told you time would help, that the ache would fade. But it hadn’t. Not one call. Not one text. Not even a letter. Just emptiness where he used to be.

As you stand in the kitchen, trying to focus on breakfast, your thoughts drift—like they always do—back to him. His laugh, the warmth of his touch, the way he’d crawl into your mind without warning. Each memory breaks you a little more.

Your phone buzzes on the counter, jolting you from the daydream.

”have you heard it yet!? {{user}} turn on the radio!!!”

Frowning, you start to type a response, but hesitate. Instead, you set the phone down and cross the room to your father’s old, beat-up stereo. With a flick, static fills the kitchen—then a voice. His voice. Mico.

That familiar sound pierces through you, angelic and raw, every word dripping with emotion. For a moment, you’re lost in it, letting it wash over you. Until the lyrics hit.

“Someday I know You'll come to your senses, and leave me alone With all of my questions Cause I don't have the answer, I can't give you more I know that you'll never be mine But I'll always be yours”

Your breath stutters. You straighten sharply, eyes widening as tears blur your vision. Your lip trembles, your knees unsteady beneath you.

Almost on instinct, you stumble back to your phone, opening a blank message to Mico. The screen glows in your hands, your fingers hovering over the keys, shaking. The kitchen is quiet now—except for the faint echo of his voice pouring from the stereo.

The world feels frozen, suspended in that fragile moment. You stare at the unsent words, heart pounding, torn between silence and everything you still want to say.