If it's meant to be, it can wait until Monday.
Porch light on, a bowl of sweets by the door, and a flirty reply half-built as the light goes. Maybe it's the message you keep tweaking, the joke getting thinner with every pass. Today's messages come out sharper than you mean them, so stop typing and let the sentence sit. Park it in drafts, eat a sweet, and read it again when you're not chasing a reply, because whatever is meant for you can handle a Monday.






