The sky stares at me with its vastness. It is dreadfully empty today. No shiny specks glittering in the dark macrocosm. No moon emanating the white aura, just enough for the legibility of the words in my Nabokov’s Lolita, which I attempt to read with intent sitting comfortably next to my high-rise window pane.

The very same words in the e-book, which I happened to stumble upon, on one of my many net browsing expeditions, might bring a soothing satisfaction to the monetary affordability one faces at the billing counter at Crossword, but it cannot substitute the charm of a book being held with one’s very own hands. Just as you held me when we departed.

The conversations and glances that we exchanged with ease have turned into combination of binary digits of zeroes and ones, waiting to be transported by electrical signals. We were growing slow, yet it seemed fast. And now with signals claiming the fastest 3G ever, everything seems slow. When did this distance grow?

We stare at the same sky, I wonder. Flickering and stagnant lights of the entire city create an oxymoron so powerful that makes me realize the distance yet not the difference of you not being near. Time will pass and so shall the buildings change, with their red lights flashing at regular intervals to warn susceptible heightened dangers to stay away. So will the distance between us grow.