He had a past. Everyone did, he believed. But to him, his past was a blur of events. He would always wake up tangled and alone in cold white sheet. The sun glared at him. Even the nights were howling. If only there was something, let it be tiny spark of light. Maybe he would understand why he hates bathroom. Or something even more important.

It's a single message. After a long time with no contact whatsoever. The message is so short but it has flipped something inside me. It doesn't feel good, nor does it feel bad. It's a single message. After a long time with no contact whatsoever. The message is so short but it has flipped something inside me. It doesn't feel good, nor does it feel bad.

Whenever I see you, I can feel you, touch you. You engulfed me in your galaxy. My comfortable silence. A world made by you, a world made by me. My secret haven. My normal insanity.