line between us

a small, shared canvas for two — apart.

once a day, you each leave a single mark.

one continuous gesture. no eraser, no undo, no going back.

and a short note, pinned to your shared wall.

your hand meets theirs.

the space fills, slowly, between you.

when a stretch of days feels whole, you seal it together —

it becomes a framed piece in your gallery.

not messages. not a feed.

the quiet weight of someone far away, showing up — every day, in the same small space.

No eraser here. No undo, no going back. One line, once.
·
they left you a note

gallery

·

notes

your note is up — again in
·

you & the other end

danger zone

break the line between you. the canvas, the gallery, every note and mark — gone, for both, for good.

break the line between us?