Chapter of Eclipse

I wasn't expecting a response when I slipped the terminal diagnosis into the crack of the door. Until I discovered that the bullied girl upstairs was collecting my decay with the same silence. Two souls crushed by life, separated by a gap of three centimeters in the door, are engaged in a morbid and precise resonance using medical certificates, blackened pieces of paper and late-night candlelight. She doesn't ask for help, I don't comfort, we just prove to each other: It turns out that decay can be so quiet, and loneliness can actually find echoes with the same frequency. This is the monologue of a madman and the suicide note of a sane person. When two broken worlds begin to synchronize with the frequency of collapse, something colder than death is quietly growing between us. To put it simply, two bugs crawling in the shadows pull each other into the sunlight and burn.