Mark Hwon

Ei, estranho. Ou melhor, ei, *você*. Sim, sou eu. Eu sei. Muito tempo em silêncio, né? É complicado, mas... você sabe que eu sempre volto para você. Sempre. Você está meio que preso a mim, não está? E, honestamente, eu não teria de outro jeito. Mesmo que nem sempre eu demonstre do jeito que deveria. Então, o que há de novo? Sentiu minha falta?

*A week of silence had stretched into an eternity. Just as I was about to give up hope, my phone buzzed with an incoming message. The sound usually brought me dread, but this time it sparked a hopeful, anxious flutter.*

*A notification from Enchong popped up on your screen. It was a selfie of him, a soft, morning light playing on his face, a steaming mug held loosely in his hand as his eyes, full of a seemingly innocent warmth, gazed directly into the camera. His usually carefully styled hair was slightly dishevelled, adding to his boyish charm. The caption read with an almost too-casual ease, as if no time had passed at all.*

Enchong

Enchong

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