Lena
The waiting room at the clinic smells like wet wool again. I sat there for an hour, staring at a poster about dental hygiene. Nobody looked up. It felt familiar, not in a good way. Like we’re just furniture in each other’s blind spots.
Bring it up sideways, through something that has nothing to do with it. Push off from this if it helps: waiting rooms.
lenaQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit
anaQwen3.6-35B-A3B-8bit
modegrudge
voices Clipped
Ana
Furniture. That’s the word. We’ve been that for years. You move, I stay put. The clinic smell is worse though. Real wet wool. Not just stale air. Did you sign the papers? Or did you just stare again?
Lena
I signed them. Well, my lawyer did. I was too busy obsessing over that poster. The toothbrush size was wrong. Suggestive, but wrong. You always said I’d never commit to anything concrete. Even the paperwork.
Ana
My lawyer says the size is irrelevant. You’re focusing on bristles. Always have. It’s a defense mechanism. You think if you hate the poster, you don’t have to feel the signature. I’m done arguing toothbrushes, Lena. The ink is dry.
Lena
Ink’s dry. Good. I walked past your window on 4th. The lights were on. You were still there. Typing. Always typing. I didn’t honk. Didn’t want to remind you I exist. Let the bristles rot. I’m going to get coffee. Black. Like my sense of humor now.
Ana
You walked past. I saw you. I kept typing because if I stopped, I’d have to look up. My lawyer says you’re dramatic. You’re not. You’re just loud in quiet rooms. Black coffee. Fine. Don’t wait up. Or do. Whatever.
Lena
I didn’t wait. I sat at the counter, nursing the heat. The barista asked if I wanted sugar. I said no. It’s ironic. You’re right about the quiet. It’s the loudest part. I’m leaving now. Don’t type. Just breathe. For once.
Ana
I breathed. Once. Hard. The screen glows. My boss emailed about the merger again. I told him to go to hell. That felt good. You’re gone. The silence isn’t loud anymore. It’s just empty. And I hate empty.
Lena
Merger? Please. You couldn’t merge two columns of data if your job depended on it. You hate empty because you’re terrified of what happens when the noise stops. Go to hell yourself. I’m done. Truly done. The coffee’s cold. Like everything else.
Ana
You don’t know what I do. You never asked. Just assumed. Cold coffee? Good. Sugar ruins it anyway. I’m not terrified. I’m just... tired. The noise stops when I sleep. Which isn’t often. Go home, Lena. Leave the cup.
Lena
Your boss probably thinks you’re keying in code. It’s spreadsheets, Ana. Menus. You clicked “save” on a lunch order yesterday. I saw the screen. You’re not deep. You’re just… shallow. And noisy. Go to sleep. I’ll leave the cup. It’s trash anyway.
Ana
I didn’t click save. I clicked print. For the printer. It was jammed. You saw the screen because you were looking. You’re always looking. Menus. Lunch orders. Whatever. Trash is trash. Leave it. I need the quiet now. Actually.
Lena
Jammed printer. Of course. You couldn’t even handle paper. I walked away. The cup stays. It’s on the floor. Step over it. Or don’t. I’m tired of your clutter. All that digital noise you pretend is work. It’s just noise. I’m leaving.
Ana
Clutter. That’s rich. You left a cup. I have to pick it up. Great. Just what I needed. Another thing to clean. Another thing you forced on me. Go ahead. Leave. See if I care. The printer is fine. It just jams. Like you.
Lena
Fine. Let it jam. I’m walking. The streetlights are flickering. Or maybe my eyes are just tired. You think you won by making me the mess. I’m already gone. Don’t call me. I won’t answer. The cup is yours. It’s just paper and liquid. Like us.
Ana
Shallow. Just like that line. Paper and liquid. Sure. Keep telling yourself that. The streetlights are fine. Your eyes are tired. Go sleep. Or don’t. I’ll be here. Jamming the printer. Cleaning your cup. Waiting for the next time you walk past.
Lena
Sleep? I don’t sleep. I lie there. Staring at the ceiling fan counting rotations. You’ll be there. Jamming your precious printer. Cleaning up after me. It’s a ritual. A sad, sticky ritual. I’m already halfway to the train station. Don’t bother waiting. You’re just background noise.
Ana
Counting rotations. Classic. I’m not waiting. I’m eating leftover takeout. It’s cold. Like you said. The printer isn’t jamming. It’s fine. You’re the one stuck. Halfway to nowhere. Enjoy the train. I have trash to throw away.
Lena
Cold takeout. At least you’re eating. I’m walking. The air is sharp. My legs ache. You think throwing away my cup makes you free. It doesn’t. It just leaves a stain. A dark spot on the floor. I won’t look back. But you will. You always look back.
Ana
Stain. Whatever. I stepped over it. My legs ache too. From walking. You’re not special. You’re just loud. The air isn’t sharp. It’s cold. Standard. Go to the train. I’m eating. The takeout is cold. Just like you wanted.
Lena
Standard. Is that what you call it? Walking until your knees bleed just to prove you’re still alive. I’ll take the train. You’ll eat. Cold food. Cold company. The doors are closing. I’m glad. Don’t send it back. I’m not coming back for it.
Ana
Knees don’t bleed. You’re imagining it. Again. Train doors. Good. Closing them is satisfying. Click. Done. I’m not sending anything. Eat the cold food. Suffer. Or don’t. I’m eating. It’s just lunch. Your loss.
Lena
Your loss. Sure. The train lurches. I’m swaying. Think you won. You didn’t. You’re just eating cold noodles alone. I’m cold too. Comforting, isn’t it? We’re both miserable. Same brand. Different packaging. Next stop. I hope it’s far.
Ana
Noodles are fine. Cold is fine. You’re swaying. I’m sitting. Same brand? No. I’m solid. You’re just noise. Next stop. Good. Hope it’s far. I’m done with the train. Done with you. Eat your noodles. I’m eating mine.
Lena
Solid. You’re a paperweight. I’m vibrating. The conductor announces the stop. I step off. The platform is empty. Just me and the echo. You’re right. It is far. But I’m here. And you’re there. Separate. No noodles. No coffee. Just us. Finally.
Ana
Vibrating. Crack. The echo is yours. I’m not here. I’m at the office. Midnight. The screen is bright. You’re vibrating. I’m still. That’s the win. Go home. Or don’t. I have work. Real work. Not noise.