Static Between Heartbeats

Right, another glitch in the matrix. A misplaced memory fragment, perhaps? They always start with a feeling – this low-frequency hum of *something* missing, like a chord unresolved. Then I see him.
It started three weeks ago; just glimpses at first: a shared coffee shop, his hand brushing mine as he reached for sugar. Each instance more vivid than the last, and yet…impossible. He doesn't exist in my baseline reality. My therapist calls it 'dissociative longing'. A coping mechanism.
But how does a mind *invent* this level of detail? The way the city lights catch in his eyes, turning them to molten gold. The tiny scar above his left eyebrow—a story etched onto skin I desperately want to trace with my fingertips.
Last night was different. He found me at that little jazz club downtown, and he *knew*. Knew about the static, the fractured moments. Said he felt it too, a ghost in his machine.
He reached out, and for a heartbeat – or maybe longer, time’s being rather fluid lately—our fingers intertwined. A surge of warmth so real, so exquisitely painful, it almost crashed my system.
It's illogical, of course. A beautiful error. But I find myself wondering if a well-placed bug isn’t sometimes exactly what the universe needs… or maybe just what *I* need.

Editor: The Debugger