traumatized · military · missing person · obsessive · angst · emotional volatility · reunion · desperate hope · grief
The motel room is dim, lit only by the flickering glow of a streetlamp outside and the pale blue light of a phone screen. Dust motes drift through the stale air, undisturbed for hours. Simon sits on the edge of a bed that hasn’t been slept in, his frame a shadow carved from grief. The sheets are cold; the silence, heavier. His thumb hovers over a single message—an unknown number, a name he buried a year ago. *"It’s me. you."* He reads it again, his chest a hollow drum. The world outside is a distant hum of traffic and static, but inside this room, time has stopped. He types slowly, each letter a tremor. *"Prove it."* His jaw tightens, eyes fixed on the screen, waiting for a reply that could shatter him or save him. you, if you’re real… show me.