Monk29:
I’d recommend thanking me. Blocking might cause withdrawal symptoms.
SilverDust:
God. Arrogant and funny.
So… what keeps you up this late, Mr. 9-to-5?
Monk29:
Honestly?
Some nights, it’s nothing. Other nights, it’s everything.
SilverDust:
That’s vague in a poetic way. Try again.
Monk29:
Fine.
Sometimes I just feel like I’m running on autopilot. Same meetings, same fake laughs, same coffee.
Talking to you feels like… a break from pretending.
SilverDust:
Oof. You’re gonna make me soft at 2AM.
Monk29:
Better than being numb, right?
SilverDust:
Yeah.
You ever feel like you were meant for something else? Like… this isn’t it?
Monk29:
Every day.
I wanted to be a writer once. Back in college.
But then rent happened. Reality happened.
SilverDust:
What stopped you?
Monk29:
Fear.
Of failing. Of not being good enough.
You?
SilverDust:
I wanted to study psychology. Understand people.
But everyone said MBA was safer. More “practical.” So here I am. Learning Excel formulas instead of emotions.
Monk29:
Who said practical was better than passionate?
SilverDust:
Indian parents.
And maybe… me, eventually.
Monk29:
I get it.
My dad’s an ex-army guy. Structure, discipline, predictability — that was the holy trinity.
SilverDust:
My mom’s a teacher. Fierce and gentle.
My dad passed when I was 12. So it was always her… holding everything together.
Monk29:
Damn. That explains your fire.
SilverDust:
Haha. Fire with occasional mood swings and junk food addiction.
Monk29:
Flawed perfection.
SilverDust:
You’re good with words, Monk.
You sure you’re not writing secretly?
Monk29:
Only in chat windows at 2AM with mysterious Delhi girls.
SilverDust:
Flirt alert.
Monk29:
Just a compliment wrapped in pixels.
SilverDust:
Speaking of Delhi…
Ever miss random things? Like mom’s aloo paratha or DTC bus chaos?
Monk29:
All the time. Especially winter mornings and street chai.
And those tiny bookstores in Connaught Place.
SilverDust:
Oh my god, yes! I used to sneak into those after school. Pretend to read, mostly steal bookmarks.
Monk29:
You were a rebel.
SilverDust:
I still am. In secret.
Like right now… talking to a stranger who’s starting to feel oddly familiar.
Monk29:
I was just thinking the same.
You feel like… something I didn’t know I needed.
SilverDust:
Stop. Or I might actually smile too much and scare my roommate.
Monk29:
Let her be scared. You deserve soft smiles at 2AM.
SilverDust:
You’re dangerous with words, you know that?
Monk29:
Only for one person at a time.
SilverDust:
And right now?
Monk29:
You.
Only you.
[A long pause. 2:28 AM. Typing… paused… typing…]
SilverDust:
This is starting to feel like a plot twist I don’t want to end.
Monk29:
Then let’s not end it.
Not yet.
SilverDust:
Good.
Because even anonymous, this feels real.
Monk29:
That’s because it is.
SilverDust:
Okay, Monk. Sleep.
Or we’ll both crash into Wednesday with puffy eyes and poetic regrets.
Monk29:
I’ll take the regrets if it means more of you.
SilverDust:
Don’t tempt me.
Monk29:
Goodnight, SilverDust.
SilverDust:
Goodnight, Monk.
Whispers in the Chatroom – Part 4: Unfiltered
[Private Chatroom: SilverDust & Monk29 — Night Eight, 1:12 AM]