Karen stifled a laugh. Yishai's emails always made her smile. He took what she'd written, and pinged it back with a twist, adding another smart, amusing, facet.
There was something about the Internet, about corresponding with each other only through the written word, which caused communicating to be much deeper. It was as if they had skipped the shallow facade of looks and gestures, of dressing up and being introduced, of polite nonentities and social norms, and delved straight to the essence. She felt freer to speak her mind, to share the private and personal. She wasn't shy, or embarrassed. Because he wasn't here. He couldn't see her, he couldn't watch her face. She didn't blush, and her voice didn't drop to a whisper, unconsciously. They were only emailing.
Also, it turned out that she liked writing. She could pause, and think, and go back a line to delete, fix, clarify. There was no rush to press send, Karen could wait until she'd managed to express herself to her satisfaction. It wasn't like a date, a conversation, where by the time she'd worked out what she wanted to say, it was too late, they were onto a new topic. It wasn't like life, where she'd let slip a sentence, and it would hang in the air, irreversible, and often taken the wrong way.
Because Karen did have quirks, opinions that differed from society's standard lines of thinking. She'd scared more than one boy off, when she'd expressed them. But Yishai she could explain herself to. Yishai understood. Often he even felt the same way. That was heaven, when she discovered she was not alone, was not so peculiar, heretical, after all.
It was such a pity this couldn't work out, didn't stand a chance. Unless he hadn't meant it.
Maybe it was merely a word to him, a title, a phrase. Maybe it wasn't what it sounded like.
4 days ago