Your text came at 2 in the morning, the light from the screen blinded me. Your pretty face staring back at me with a note, a plea for meaningless conversation. The usual thoughts raced through my head, like illuminated windows of the steam train crashing through my beating heart. But the once erratic porcelain is still. The tea trolley of emotion that rattled through my dreams in finally empty.
I'm done waiting for you. Midnight text-spiration!