ArtFlow

Distance isn't measured in kilometers. She knew this now. You can be across an ocean from someone and feel them completely. You can be in the same bed and feel nothing at all.
It happened slowly, the way things do. Not a fight, not a moment — just a gradual cooling. Fewer questions. Shorter answers. The comfortable silences becoming something else, something she couldn't name until one morning she realized she'd stopped telling him things. Not the big things — the small ones. The funny thing that happened at work. The song she couldn't stop listening to. The dream she almost remembered.
That's when she knew. Not because of anything dramatic. Because of all the small things she'd quietly stopped sharing.