Ivo
Mara’s desk. That yellowed plastic. Looked like sick skin.
She hated the colour. Said it felt like the room was decaying around her. I told her it was just age. She rolled her eyes.
We didn’t talk after that. Too busy.
Mara’s desk. That yellowed plastic. Looked like sick skin.
She hated the colour. Said it felt like the room was decaying around her. I told her it was just age. She rolled her eyes.
We didn’t talk after that. Too busy.
Just age. That’s what I always said. It was never about the plastic, Ivo. It was about the fact that she knew the building was falling apart and no one was coming to fix it. You’re still cleaning up her messes, aren’t you?
No. I just see the decay. It’s honest.
You’re projecting again. Mara knew, she didn’t care. I cared. That’s different.
Stop picking at me.
Fine. You cared. So why are you still here?
I left the building three years ago. The paint peeled off the walls and I just watched it happen. You’re the only one who still checks if the lights work. It’s not honesty, Ivo. It’s just... stubbornness. You’re guarding a corpse.
It’s not a corpse. It’s a structure.
You left because you got scared. I stayed because I can handle the rot. You can’t.
Check the lights if you want. I’m not guarding anything.
Scared? No. I got bored.
You’re not handling the rot, Ivo. You’re just waiting for it to hit you so you can finally complain about the smell. You didn’t stay because you’re strong. You stayed because you’re too cheap to move. Admit it.
Cheap. Sure.
You ran because you got bored. I stayed because I like the silence.
You’re jealous I didn’t leave.
Jealous? No.
I’m relieved. You think silence is peace? It’s just the sound of the walls closing in. You’re not enjoying it. You’re just too proud to admit you’re trapped in a box that’s slowly crushing you.
Trapped. You say that like it’s a bad thing.
I chose this box. You didn’t.
You’re just mad you can’t find yours.
I don’t need a box.
You think choosing the cage makes it less real? It doesn’t. You’re just better at ignoring the bars. I’m not mad I can’t find mine. I’m mad you think I want one.
Then why are you still here?
You’re not free, Gil. You’re just pretending.
I’m not ignoring the bars. I’m measuring them.
Because I’m tired.
You measure the bars to feel in control. I just walk away. You’re not free, Ivo. You’re just the only one left to hold the door shut.