ArtFlow

He texted at 4am.
Just an emoji. A moon.
She saw it at six, when the alarm screamed and the coffee wasn't ready yet.
She didn't reply.
Sat on the edge of the balcony with the warm cup between her palms and thought maybe it's okay not to know what to say.
That maybe a moon isn't a question that needs an answer.
On the street below, someone was playing guitar.
Badly. Really badly.
She smiled.