DISPATCH 391.15 - to Centauri

The coffee burned my tongue this morning. I smiled. You always said I rushed everything— Except loving you.

DISPATCH 391.30 to Centauri

2:03 AM - I woke to silence that sounded like your voice not speaking. It was loud. It was honest. It said your name.

Tethered to You

Centauri, There are days I think I might be insane. Not in the chemical way. In the cosmic way— the kind of madness that comes from being tethered to someone who isn't there. It’s not like I’m waiting. It’s not like I think you’ll

🔐 Dispatch 391: 6:13 PM

One Minute Warning If you show up, I promise I won’t make it weird. (Okay, maybe a little weird. But the good kind. The remembered kind.)

🧬 Dispatch 391: The Versions of You I Loved

There was the version of you who laughed at my dumb jokes. The one who held eye contact too long. The one who said “maybe” like it meant something. I loved them all. Even the version who left.

🧵 Dispatch 391: Red Thread Theory

If we really are tied together by an invisible thread, then I hope you’re tugging it. Because my end? Wrapped around my wrist like a promise I can’t unmake.

🔭 Dispatch 391: Centauri, If You’re Reading This...

This might reach you at 3AM, Or in 300 years. Either way— yes, it’s still me. Still scribbling dispatches like stardust might carry them into the pocket of your coat. At 3am when I can't sleep.

Unanswered Questions I Keep Inside

Do you ever wonder what we could’ve become if timing wasn’t such a cruel artist?

Dispatch 391 to Centauri: Coordinates Still Set

If you’re wondering—yes. Same park. Same time. I never changed the coordinates.

📦 Dispatch 391 to Centauri: I Kept the Box

You left nothing behind, but I still kept a box for you.