Red String

There’s a red red cord that only you and I can see.
It winds around you in circles tightly but not enough to bind you. Only one line extends from you to me a link between you to me. No one can see this. Its our connection that we know exists. I can call to you by tugging on my end of the cord, sending silent messages in hope that they reach you.

That line between you and I is as long as it needs to be. Sometimes its a meter, other times no space at all, and at times on the other side of what I know exists. Over that horizon and a few more is you. Living, working, knowing of this faintly present bond. A round circle on a wall marks the hour, counts down the time till that line shortens elastically to zero.

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