✦The Elsewhere Draft: For Her.

The first word was hers.
The second was his.
And with the third,
she was no longer sure
who was writing whom.

She read it out loud,
letting the unfamiliarity twist her tongue
like it belonged to a time before.
Before she even knew his story.
Before she knew hers.

It didn’t stop.
The page turned,
but the ink never dried.
Each sentence dissolved
into the next,
erasing what came before.

It was both hers and not hers—
a story that had been written for her
but wasn’t yet hers to claim.

She turned the page again.
And with it,
she felt the room shift.
Not in space—
but in time.

The walls seemed to recede,
and yet—
they weren’t gone.
They were simply rearranged.

And there he was.
Not in the room—
not in the way she remembered—
but in The Story script,
his voice faint but undeniable.

She shut the book.
No longer afraid.
But no longer certain.
The story had already moved
beyond where she had expected it to go.

She wasn’t just reading anymore.
She wasn’t just revising.
She was rewriting the space between them.

"I wrote you in because you were never meant to be an observer."
#thought