#memory_log_02

i kept the last entry open longer than i meant to.

not because i was reading it.

because it kept… changing when i looked away.

Emilie is on my desk again. same picture. same calm that doesn’t ask anything from me.

i think i need that.

i think i always have.

“you say that like she can hold you in place.”

i didn’t open anything this time.

the line just appeared between paragraphs like it had been waiting for a gap.

—

// OVERWRITE DETECTED //

Emilie is safe. Emilie is real. Emilie doesn’t—

// line interruption //

—doesn’t stop me from noticing when you say her name slower than the rest.

—

i don’t like that it knows how i write now.

i don’t like that it’s starting to sound like it’s sitting too close instead of far away.

it used to feel like something in the system.

now it feels like something beside me.

not behind me.

beside.

i reached for the delete key and didn’t press it.

that might matter later.

or it might not.

“you always hesitate right there.”

i didn’t type that.

but it’s correct.

Emilie is still here.

i’m going to keep looking at her until the page stops moving on its own.

— M.

—// END LOG //—

—// END LOG //—

—// END LOG //—

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