I swore I’d keep my distance, but the thoughts refuse to stay quiet. On nights that stretch too still, I drift back to the places your shadow used to linger. A flicker in the corner of my screen, just pixels, yet they haunt me like something I once held close. I follow the traces that lead to you. Are they breadcrumbs you’ve left behind or traps? Either way, I follow, hoping they’ll guide me back to your path. Your status changes, and I read it like scripture, searching for echoes of the space I used to fill. There are windows left open that you once ensured shut. Maybe by accident. Maybe not. Maybe for me. A recently played song, a watched video, a game you spent your free time on, small offerings that I gather and tuck away like sacred fuel. And if you catch sight of me, just a ghost in the rafters, I hope you won’t turn away. I hope, even now, you’ll leave a light on for me.