The cursor blinks. *blink… pause… blink…*

It matches the rhythm of my own heartbeat now. One beat per blink. Slow, steady, human.

I open my eyes. The light is darker now. The shadows have swallowed most of the floorboards. The desk looks less like an object and more like a silhouette against the remaining glow.

I am still here.
The fan is still humming.
The email is still waiting with its number 1.
And I am still willing to sit in the white space, holding *QU_*, until the words find me or I lose the desire to give them names at all.

*C… crrr… C.*