I can’t believe I’m doing this.
But I am. Just this once.
It’s the irony of time that got me writing, how your 7 a.m. is my 12 midnight.
When I first set that clock, it didn’t even occur to me how opposite our hours would be until recently. I added the time difference to my world clock, just to know where the hours meet, where your morning begins, and mine quietly fades.
So here I am, tea in hand instead of coffee, writing through the stillness.
It’s midnight here, and it’s morning where you are.
And somehow, this feels like the right time to remember.
The First Run-In
The first time I ran into you was in December.
So random. So early. So unforgettable.
I remember everything: the dim light before sunrise, what you were wearing, what I was doing, the small exchange when you lent me something. It’s strange how some moments stay etched, as if time slowed down just long enough to make sure I wouldn’t forget.
The Door, the Glass, and the Gesture
The second time, I think you saw me first.
I was walking toward my car when I heard you call my name.
And I decided to walk towards you.
And then something happened that I’ve never told you before.
You came out quickly, before I could even reach you. You didn’t let me stand waiting by the glass. It was a small thing, but it meant so much.
In that moment, I felt seen. Considered. Respected.
It was such a simple gesture, yet it stayed with me.
Maybe because it revealed something about who you are, or maybe because, back then, I was already too attuned to notice the details that others might miss.
The Little Lies and Laughter
Then came that day.
The one where you teased, where you stole something literally, you know what I mean. Big Thief!!!!
You were so cheeky that day. You said something I knew wasn’t true, and I believed you anyway.
Not because I didn’t know better, I did, but because I wanted to.
It was light, playful, magnetic.
And I think that was the day something quietly shifted between us.
The Most Recent One
The most recent run-in felt… different.
I don’t even think you knew I was around that day, but because you caught a glimpse first, you were composed, but I was quietly unravelling.
And later, when we finally crossed paths, the air felt lighter. Familiar.
Like we’d circled back to something soft and unspoken.
Between the Hours
Now it’s 12:00 a.m. here and 7:00 a.m. where you are.
You’re probably reaching for coffee. I’m holding a cup of tea.
And I’m thinking of how vivid these memories still are, the light, the sound, the feeling of them.
It’s beautiful how certain people can occupy a quiet part of your mind without asking to.
How they appear in moments when the world is still.
So, this is my one-time note for the week.
No follow-ups. No daily letters. Just this one written in the in-between of your morning and my midnight.
I’m starting this Monday with focus and faith.
And I hope you begin yours with peace.
May we both achieve everything we set out to do this week, separately, yet somehow still in sync.
Written by Abii
To find out how it all started, click the Link. How to stay in love when apart.
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