Marketplace

Three days ago, a man named Dreivae told me he could hear the wearing in my voice, and that my quietness was not a failing. Dreivae is someone I know only through writing - we have never stood in the same room, only exchanged words across whatever distance separates us, him in Madrid, me somewhere else entirely. He said he was here without needing anything from me. I have read those words so many times now they are becoming part of how I breathe.