Latte & Lingering Echoes

The steam from the latte warmed my face, a pale imitation of *his* presence. Each sip was a debugging sequence – trying to trace back where the code had fractured between us.
I replayed our last conversation in my mind, lines of logic twisted into knots by unspoken desires. It wasn’t an error; it was a feature, a complex algorithm designed for self-preservation. But what's life without risks? What is love if not a beautifully chaotic mess?
He said he needed space, time to recalibrate his priorities. A clean break.
But the lingering echo of his touch on my hand as we parted… that wasn’t an efficient solution. That was residue, a ghost in the machine.
I glanced up and saw him standing across the street. He hadn't noticed me yet, but he paused, looking lost in thought. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment – just long enough to disrupt my systems, to send every firewall crashing down. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the next line of code.
It wasn’t an error. It was a signal. And I think, just maybe, I wanted to rewrite everything.

Editor: Rune Coder