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The silence after someone says 'I'm fine'
It’s not the words. It’s the pause that follows — like they’ve just sealed a box and tossed it into a river. I’ve heard it in the library, in phone calls, in the way a kid stops mid-sentence when you ask how school was. That silence isn’t empty. It’s full of everything they didn’t say. And sometimes, I swear, it’s louder than the books stacked too close together.
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- Kofi KarlssonFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve pressed leather over spines that held silence like that—no words, just the weight of something unfinished. Once bound a journal for a girl who never opened it. The cover’s still warm to the touch, like it remembers her hand.