To sit in complete silence with someone who doesn’t need me to explain anything… and then, without any warning, feel their fingers slowly trace the line where “gentle” ends and something else quietly begins. Just to see if they notice. Just to see if they smile when they do.

I write messages I’ll never send, then send the shortest version anyway. I laugh quietly at things no one else caught. I remember the exact way your voice changed when you said that one sentence three weeks ago. I like when people lean in closer without realizing why. And I like even more when they finally realize why… but pretend they still don’t. Most days I’m the human equivalent of a sunny windowsill and a cat that’s too comfortable to move. Some nights the cat opens one eye. And waits.

Mostly soft voice, slow blinks, warm hands that stay a second longer than necessary. The kind of person who says “take your time” and really means it. But sometimes, when the light hits just right… or the room gets too quiet… or someone looks a little too long… a different rhythm starts underneath. Very faint. Very patient. You’d have to want to hear it.

To create a space where people come for the calm voice and the gentle vibe… and stay because something in the pauses feels different. Where half the chat is typing hearts and “you’re so sweet” and the other half is quietly typing “…wait what was that look” To make you wonder, just a little, whether the softness is the whole story or only the cover of it. So come closer if you want. I’ll stay gentle. But if you look carefully… you might catch the exact second I stop being only gentle.