Two strangers. One blog.
One writes in the dark, never knowing who reads.
The other reads in silence, never saying who she is.
Mia Michels is a journalism student who hides behind a fake name, spilling her thoughts like confessions at 3 a.m. Her pos...
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Silversteel kept her promise with almost obsessive precision, leaving a comment on every single post I uploaded. Then we'd drift into Discord, and little by little the calls began to take over. No matter how many there were, though, I always felt it wasn't enough. She had this deliberate ambiguity about her. She answered my questions, sure, but she had a way of steering the conversations, taking the wheel and pushing us into unexpected waters. Sometimes I found it funny. Other times it got under my skin.
I still had no idea what she did for a living or what exactly had happened in that accident she'd mentioned once in passing. Beyond her tastes, her cultural references, and a handful of charming quirks, her life remained a mystery. I wanted more, much more, but I didn't know how to ask for it—or if I even should.
Rhonda started saying I was shutting myself in too much, living between Discord and the endless loop of my own thoughts. She pushed me to come out with her, and of course John jumped on the plan. It was Friday, and since I had no classes or work on Saturday, I could afford a night out. I wouldn't be going home anyway. I'd stay at her place.
I put on more makeup than usual. A tight black dress, tall boots, a simple bag. While I was fixing the eyeliner, a message from Silversteel lit up the screen.
Silversteel
Want to call later?
I sighed. Truth was, I wanted that call more than the party.
M. M. Reverie
I'm staying at Rhonda's tonight. I'll miss our nightly talk... and the crucial fact that the country with the most pyramids isn't Egypt, like everyone thinks, but Sudan. And of course debating whether or not Charles II really wore a wig made out of women's pubic hair.
I couldn't help laughing. Silversteel could be ridiculously funny. And she was right, I would miss her. That admission, paired with an almost reckless impulse, made me snap a quick picture in the mirror. Just a hint of how the dress fit me, not too much, but suggestive enough. I sent it before I could overthink it.
M. M. Reverie
Well? Night look. Heading out with Rhonda and John. If not, Rhonda would literally drag me by the hair and force me out for what she insists is "vitamin C." I told her that's a daytime thing, but she just said, "C reversed." I'm not sure I want to know what that means.
I dabbed a little perfume on my wrists and the base of my neck. The woody scent warmed against my skin, sparking a faint shiver. I grabbed my purse and the backpack with clean clothes for the next day—I'd learned the hard way not to leave spares to chance. My stomach tightened with a mix of nerves and anticipation as the notification popped up. Silversteel's reply.
Silversteel
Were you trying to give me a heart attack? You look gorgeous. You're going to have plenty of pests buzzing around. Want me to come play bodyguard? And yes, I'll miss our oh-so-enlightened conversations too.
