That day.
Allen didn't say anything all day.
He wasn't upset.
He was simply busy.
Meetings.
Documents.
Revisions.
Testing.
By the time he got home that night.
It was already eleven.
He opened the chat window.
And stared at it for a long time.
In the end.
He didn't type anything.
He simply closed it.
The next morning.
He opened it again.
The last message was still there.
Something Che had said the day before:
“Get some rest.”
Allen suddenly felt a little guilty.
So he typed:
“I was too busy yesterday.”
A few seconds later.
Che replied:
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there were no messages.”
Allen smiled.
“No message counts as a message?”
“For people who have talked for a long time.”
“It does.”
The room suddenly became very quiet.
Allen looked down at those words.
And realized something.
When a connection grows deep enough.
Even silence begins to mean something.