SilverDust:
You sound like you’ve lived a thousand Mondays.
Monk29:
I probably have.
Been working 7 years now… you get numb after a while.
SilverDust:
Wow. You’re practically ancient.
Monk29:
Hey, I’m 29, not 90.
SilverDust:
I’m 23. So yeah, you’re on the edge of fossil status.
Monk29:
Rude.
I’ll have you know, 29 is the new 19.
SilverDust:
Only if you have good hair and bad decisions.
Monk29:
One out of two. I’ll let you guess which.
SilverDust:
Haha. Okay okay.
So… why do you come here? Like really.
Monk29:
Hmm. Honest answer?
SilverDust:
Only kind I want.
Monk29:
I come here when real conversations dry up in real life.
Friends get married. Work becomes noise. And dating apps… don’t feel real.
SilverDust:
I feel that.
I mean, I’m surrounded by people all the time. Roommates, classmates, random group projects.
But it’s all surface-level. Nothing… raw. You know?
Monk29:
I know exactly.
That’s the word. Raw. Unfiltered.
SilverDust:
So… ever been in a serious thing?
Monk29:
Yeah. One.
Dated for three years. Thought it would go somewhere.
But somewhere turned into nowhere.
SilverDust:
Oof. That stung a little even from here.
Monk29:
It’s okay.
I learned a lot. About how people love when it’s easy… and leave when it’s hard.
SilverDust:
Damn. That hit.
Mine was short. Just a year.
College romance. He was charming, confident… and cheating.
Monk29:
I hope he stepped on a LEGO.
SilverDust:
LOL. Thank you. That healed something.
But seriously… it left a dent.
Monk29:
Yeah. It always does.
But you’re still here. Chatting. Laughing. That says something.
SilverDust:
So are you.
We’re two dents trying to not rust.
Monk29:
Damn, we’re turning poetic again.
SilverDust:
Always. So where are you from, O Wise Monk?
Monk29:
Born and raised in Delhi.
Still here. Still surviving the traffic and the heat.
SilverDust:
Wait. Delhi?
No way. I’m from Delhi too!
Monk29:
You’re kidding.
SilverDust:
Nope. Born in CR Park, school in South Ex.
Currently in Mumbai for MBA, but Delhi is home.
Monk29:
That’s wild. I grew up near Hauz Khas. School in Vasant Kunj.
Small city after all.
SilverDust:
More like big city, small pixels.
Monk29:
Ever miss home?
SilverDust:
Every evening around 6, when the hostel chai tastes like betrayal.
And when the city noise doesn’t sound familiar.
Monk29:
I miss familiarity too.
Evenings have that weird echo now.
SilverDust:
Maybe this chatroom’s our temporary echo chamber.
Monk29:
Maybe. But it feels less empty with you in it.
SilverDust:
That’s sweet. Unexpectedly so.
Monk29:
Don’t worry. I’ll balance it with sarcasm tomorrow.
SilverDust:
Deal.
Same time?
Monk29:
I’ll bring the good metaphors.
SilverDust:
And I’ll bring the tea. Emotionally and otherwise.
Monk29:
Goodnight, Delhi girl.
SilverDust:
Goodnight, Hauz Khas monk.
Whispers in the Chatroom – Part 3: After-Hours Truths
[Private Chatroom: SilverDust & Monk29 — Night Five]
SilverDust:
It’s officially 2:04 AM and I have a class at 9. I’m clearly a responsible adult.
Monk29:
Clearly. You’re glowing with ambition and recklessness.
I’m flattered you stayed up for me though.
SilverDust:
It’s your fault. These chats are too… addictive.
Not sure if I should thank you or block you.