They were always far.
Too far.

An angel and just someone.
A ghost of war and a girl with exams.
A deadbeat in a hoodie,
and a student everyone called brilliant.

He was how-long-only-god-knows.
She was sixteen.
Twelve time zones apart.
Half the earth in between.
When she woke, he slept.
When he ate, she starved.
When he stared at his ceiling,
she stared at hers.
Different ceilings.
Same emptiness.

The screen was their bridge.
But also their wall.
Voices filtered through static.
Faces pixelated.
Pauses longer than they should be.
"Can you hear me?"
"Yes."
But not really.

He could never hold her hand.
She could never see his wings.
The closest they came
was pressing palms to glass—
her phone,
his laptop.
Two silhouettes in blue light.
Almost touching.
Never close.

Sometimes she whispered,
"Maybe someday—"
Then stopped.
Because there was no maybe.
There was no someday.
Just the now,
half a world apart.