Offline

One day he stopped answering.

Not because he was angry.

Not because anything had happened.

He was simply tired.

Tired of conversations that led nowhere.

Tired of explaining himself to people who had already decided who he was.

At first, nobody noticed.

The world is loud.

Then the messages came.

"Are you okay?"

"Where have you been?"

He smiled.

He was the same person.

He was only no longer available on demand.

So he spent more time alone.

Morning coffee.

Rain against the window.

And slowly he found peace.

The kind that arrives when nobody is pulling pieces of you in different directions.

Some people stopped writing.

The ones who cared simply stayed.

Now he just listened.

The rain.

The wind.

His breathing.

That was enough.