As he sat down to pen his response, a wry smile played across his lips. He imagined the bewildered faces upon reading his words, or rather, the lack thereof. “They’ll be expecting a reply, a token of gratitude, perhaps even a sliver of eagerness,” he mused. But the very thought of their anticipation, their unspoken demands, and the filth of pretense that he was sure to uncover in their replies made his stomach churn. “I doubt they’re ready for the storm they’ve unwittingly invited,” His fingers hovered over the keyboard, each keystroke an echo of his disdain. “Let them wait, let them wonder. After all, ignorance is a bliss they seem to revel in.” In his mind’s eye, he saw their confidence, the masks of sincerity they donned so effortlessly. It repulsed him, the ease with which they paraded their charades, thinking no one would notice the dirt under their nails, the grime in their smiles. “No,” I’ve finally decided, a resolve as firm as the silence that would follow. “They shall receive no words from me. Not now, not ever. For what good are words to the willfully blind and the blatantly filthy?” And with that, he closed his laptop, the screen’s glow fading into the growing shadows of the room, much like his obligation to respond.

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