Thirty minutes late.The screen stayed open—a dark squarereturning my face.No room, no chair,only the clockreconsidering itselfonce a minute.I said nothing.Still, my thoughts outran sense:sirens without bodies,corridors I have never walked,your name set carefullyin someone else’s mouth.I stopped myself.I know this pattern—how easily fearlearns the costume of concern.You did not arrive.No reason followed.I let the quiet…